


Sapphire and Mist

by StarFire279



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Goths, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Inspired by the Twilight Series, Music, Romance, Soulmates, Vampire Origins, Vampires, college age
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-04-17 02:13:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14178294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarFire279/pseuds/StarFire279
Summary: Serene was the most beautiful woman Hunter had ever seen, but beyond that etherial beauty was a soul as old as time and kinder than experience should have made it. Her music drew him to her and his eyes captured her.





	1. Hunter

 

H. The first time I saw her was from across the parking lot while waiting in line to enter the Death Day Club, one of two goth clubs in the greater New Orleans area.

“Whatcha looking at?” My best friend Steve asked, as he draped an arm around my shoulders. He was already mildly intoxicated from the six pack he and our roommates had shared before we had arrived at the club.

“Nothing,” I told him. I quickly looked away from the girl leaning against one of the nicer cars in the lot and directed my attention to my friends.

The girl was beautiful and if Steve saw her in his buzzed out state he would have done one of two things. One: mocked me for even entertaining the idea that I could attract such a beauty, or Two: gone over to her and made a fool of himself by asking her out. I had no desire to suffer through either scenario.

However, I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at her as we waited in line. The top of her head would have come up to my chin had she been standing next to me. Her hair looked silky smooth in its intricate coil. Smooth the way only naturally dark hair can be. The midnight richness of her hair was in stark contrast to the pale white of her skin. She wore an outfit similar to those of just about every other girl in line. Black miniskirt with a semi revealing top that had swirling cutouts and a low neck and glossy heels no sane person would be able to walk in for very long. What set her apart from the other girls in line was nothing about her screamed sex. She held herself with a level of self-confidence I had never seen in someone around my age before. Like she didn’t need to impress anyone.

In more simple terms, she was out of my league by a thousand miles, at least. Next to her otherworldly beauty I would have looked like a leper.

Eventually, my roommates and I made it to the front of the line into the club. With a last glance in her direction I suddenly found myself meeting a pair of brilliant, sapphire blue eyes. As quickly as I could I looked down, breaking eye contact. A bright blush spread across my cheeks with the embarrassment of being caught starring. My frequent glances must have been a bit too noticeable.

Between my starring and embarrassment my roommates made their way inside the club without me. I looked up in time to see their heads disappear into the crowd. I followed slowly, knowing that it would take sometime before I found my friends again.

********

“Where have you been, man?” Steve shouted in my face to be heard above the music.

I had finally located him after circling the club for about thirty minutes. I should have checked the edges of the dance floor first.

“Looking for you and the others,” I shouted back. I could barely hear myself above the thumping music.

“Fredy and Char are gettin’ their freaky on!”

Steve was very clearly drunk now. He only used terms like “freaky” when he truly intoxicated. He pointed to where our other two roommates were on the dance floor. Fredrick, better known as Fredy by his friends, was bobbing his red mop of hair around like either a spastic dog or a dying fish, viewer’s choice. Charles Gerard the Fifth, Char to all but his parents because he hated being a fifth, was next to Fredy trying to do the robot, but having a difficult time because his platinum blond liberty spikes kept getting in the way. Surprisingly, they had a couple of girls dancing with them.

“Who are the two vamps?” I asked.

‘Vamps’ was the slang term the four of us used to refer to women. Our collective opinion was that women had the tendency to suck the life out of you if they latched on.

“Don’t know,” Steve shouted.” “The vamps came up to Fredy and Char out of nowhere and asked them to dance. It has been hilarious to watch!”

I nodded in agreement, their attempt at dancing with the vamps was hilarious.

After a few minutes standing at the edge of the dance floor, watching my friends make fools of themselves, I began to see the mystery beauty from the parking lot out of the corner of my eye. But every time I turned my head to look, it wasn’t her. After the fifth time I turned I became officially frustrated.

“I’m going to the bar for a drink,” I shouted at Steve, who was eyeing up a vamp a few feet away. I needed something to sooth my frustration, plus the bar had a better view of the club. “Do you want anything?”

“Na,” Steve answered before he walked over to the vamp and asked her to dance.

I made my way over to the bar and asked the bartender for a beer. Leaning back against the bar I began scanning the crowd to see if I could spot the real mystery beauty, not the phantom floating at the edge of my vision. I figured if I could find her, ask her to dance, and if I was lucky end the night at her place, then her life draining vamp powers would release me.

The bar was located on a raised platform, creating a decent view of the inside of the Death Day Club. The entrance was to my right, the stage and D.J. straight across, with the dance floor in front of the stage, and secluded tables off to the left and right.

My guess was that a vamp like the mystery beauty would have been at one of the darkest tables with a drink and a handsome goth, or out on the dance floor surrounded by admirers. It was not to my advantage that the club was almost pitch black with only dim lighting coming from the bar behind me, the stage on the other side of the large room, the entrance, and the occasional flash of a strobe light on the dance floor. Truthfully, I could barely see the hand at the end of my arm. How was I going to see the difference between her and the mass of goths and punks who had converged inside of the club?

As it turned out, finding the mystery beauty was quite simple. She walked out onstage.

In all of the time I’d been coming to the Death Day Club, there was only one other time when the entire club had gone pin dropping silent. That other silence had dropped a few months before, to honor the passing of one of the clubs owners from a drug overdose. Rock, the other owner, had come out onstage to inform us of this tragedy and to begin clearing the club so the EMT’s could make their way through to the backrooms. We had all bowed our heads in remembrance of the asshole, many of the goths hoping that the departed owners souls would touch them on its way out. That’s what you get when you frequent a club for goths called the Death Day Club.

It was one of those kind of enraptured, hoping to be touched by the dead, silences that fell when they mystery beauty took to the stage. As she stepped up center, someone turned the stage lights up a bit more so that even from the bar on the opposite side of the room I could see the small smile playing its way across her lips and the sparkle that had found its way into her eyes.

“Hi, I know it’s not normal for anyone but the nights D.J. to be up here on a Saturday night,” she said into a microphone.

I was entranced. The sound of her voice narrowed down my world to just the two of us. It was as if the mass of  people in the club and the distance between us didn’t exist.

“That vamp’s got a nice body,” Char whispered into the silence as he slid into the space next to me at the bar. The arrival of my friends did very little to break the spell I was under.

“What I wouldn’t give to…” Fredy began.

“Shut up, man” I interrupted him. I did not want to hear the end of his thought. “I’m listening.”

“But after much begging and groveling,” the mystery beauty continued, “I was able to convince the powers that be to let me play for you.”

Then she pulled a small harp like instrument out of a case at her feet. After plugging it into an effects peddle and testing out a few notes, she began to play.

It was the most eerie and beautiful song I had ever heard produced by human hands. And an effects peddle. I was lost in the music, deaf and blind to anyone but her. Without ever uttering a word she wove a tragic tale of loss, loneliness, and a desperate need for love. I hoped beyond hope that this song wasn’t the result of her own experience. All that emotion was something I would never wish on the worst of my enemies.

Most of the goths on the dance floor had gone in search of somewhere to sit and to be amazed. The few who had stayed to dance were the strikingly beautiful and graceful. They danced, in pairs or as singles, to the haunting notes. Their dance was synchronized to the point of perfect movement, complimenting the music. The dancers could have been a group of gods from ancient times.

The mystery beauty’s music moved me in ways I had never felt before. She herself was a beautiful vision up on that shitty stage, gracing us worthless creatures with her presence. She stood up there like a queen reigning over her court. At first I saw myself as a lowly servant, only in her presence to fulfill her every wish, for how could I ever be worthy of her.

As her music settled into my bones, I focused my gaze to her face in awe and was surprised to find her already looking across the room directly at me. When our eyes met, it seemed as if she looked straight into my soul, and I into hers. The soul I saw was thousands of years old, but all the more beautiful for the sights it had seen. Sights that were both tragic and hear warming. Her soul was kind and tender, a soul that would be the last to inflict pain. I could see through her eyes that her song was indeed about herself and how she longed to find a partner, someone who would make her life worth living.

It was with that last realization, that this eerily beautiful, tragic song was coming directly from her heart, that I began to cry. Not gasping sobs, but a steady flow of silent tears that threatened to blur my mystery beauty out of sight. Yes, she was mine. I couldn’t explain how, but our souls had connected. She wished to cry as she wove her sorrow into song, but she wouldn’t let herself. So, I cried for her instead.

The heartbreaking song gently faded into silence. The audience that had been as still as statues burst into applause. Before she left the stage she sent one last soul piercing look and mouthed the words _thank you._ Thank you. Thank you for what? Crying? With her retreating figure I was left confused as her entrancement began to slowly ware off.

“Hunter?” Steve’s concerned voice sounded like it was miles away. “What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

I brushed both Steve’s concern and my tears away.

“I have to go after her,” I told him before I took off across the room.

I had to find her, I needed to find her, to learn her name, to find out why she thanked me. We had a connection, had created a connection across what seemed like time and space and I didn’t want to loose it. She was my mystery beauty and I needed to meet her.

It took me a few minutes to make my way across the dance floor, which had started to fill again in the wake of her mournful song now that the magic that had held the rest of the crowd was broken. Once I had fought my way across the dance floor and found the door to the backstage area there was only one person back there. I ran up to the smaller goth boy who was coiling a couple of mic cords.

“Where is she?” I frantically asked him.

“Who?” The boy didn’t eve bother to look at me. He just kept coiling cords with out a care in the world.

“The woman who just performed.”

I desperately looked around, hoping that she had only just slipped around a corner. All I saw was curtains and speakers.

“Oh, her. Yea, she left a few minutes ago with some tall, dark guy,” the boy finally told me.

“Which way did they go?” I reasoned that I might still be able to catch them.

“Out the back door.”

“Thanks!” I said and was off again.

The club’s back door was hidden behind a curtain that took me a precious minute to locate. The door led outside into the alley that bands normally used to haul their equipment inside and onstage. The only things I could see were a few dumpsters and scurrying rats. There was no sign of my mystery beauty anywhere.

“Damm!!” I shouted to the sky.

With anger born of disappointment I spun towards the wall of the club and punched the brick. I had missed her. I immediately cursed myself for letting my anger get the better of me. I was nursing what I knew to be a broken hand when Steve, Fredy, and Char ran around the corner of the building leading to the entrance.

“There you are!”

“We’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Hunter, why are you holding your hand like that?” Steve asked, his concern from earlier clear on his face.

“I’m fairly sure I broke at least two fingers,” I admitted.

“By doing what?” Fredy asked, red hair flopping to the side as he tilted his head in confusion.

“Hitting that wall,” I explained with a head gesture to the brick wall next to the back door.

“Why would you do that?” Char asked, just as confused.

I looked at him silently and gave him a look that told him to mind his own business. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to find my mystery beauty, at least not that night, made me want to go and get my hand looked at. The sooner that happened the sooner I could go home. I had no desire to explain to my friends how a vamp had suddenly snared me in a trap I wasn’t sure I wanted to escape from. They wouldn’t have understood, not then. At least, Fredy and Char wouldn’t have understood. With the looks of concern Steve kept throwing my way I wasn’t so sure about him.

“Let’s get you to an emergency room, man,” Steve said, eyes sober and concerned.

He led me down the alley and into the club’s parking lot with Fredy and Char stumbling behind. They must have been disappointed that I was cutting our last real night of summer short, but I didn’t care. What I needed was to sit down and figure out how I was going to see her again, how I was going to find her. My only link to her was the Death Day Club and all I wanted was to find her. My mystery beauty with the sapphire eyes.

 


	2. Serene

He had mist gray eyes. The last time I had seen eyes like those had been in the first century after the death of the figure most claimed to be Christ. Those eyes had belonged to a Druid Princess who had used their mist color to enchant and terrify those around her. Except for the eyes, he looked nothing like that princess. I had believed her to be the last to have those eyes.

Before, from across the parking lot, he had looked ordinary and average, just another modern goth who had come to one of the few places that would accept him. I could see him from the wings of the stage, leaning against the bar across the room of this ridiculous club. In a few minutes I would be going out onstage to play, but until then I wanted to admire him from afar.

He had hair that was just dark enough to be considered brown, its length perfectly feathering around his ears. He was slim, but not lankily so, half a head taller than I. In other words, he was striking without being obviously so, and that was even with the dark clothing and the hint of eyeliner that was so common among these modern goths.

He looked a bit uncomfortable as he stood there, turning his head this way and that. He must have been looking for someone. I silently hoped that I was the one he searched for, but tried to keep my hopes low. He had been trying _not_ to stare at me from across the parking lot earlier after all.

Philip’s footsteps came up behind me. 

“Serene, it’s time.”

I thanked him with a kiss on the cheek, just barely reaching on the tips of my toes. 

“Wish me luck.”

Philip gave me an affection smile. My constant companion has been with me, tall, strong, dark, and always by my side. I turned him long ago, when I was still married and we were both still young. Philip had continued to serve and protect me no matter what I put him through.

Onstage the lights were bright. Not that I was blinded by them, but they were bright enough that any human onstage would have been blind to their audience. My sudden appearance, and the quieting of the normal club music, caused every patron in the club to go silent and turn their attention to the stage. Their silence was the deepest I had ever heard from a gathering of humans. It was as if their hearts were attempting to be quiet. Center stage there was a microphone and a stool the small goth boy working backstage had set up shortly before my entrance. The microphone smelled like bad breath and cheap alcohol just like any other microphone in any other bar. The familiar smell made me smile.

“Hi,” I said into the microphone. I made sure to gently carve into the silence just enough to be heard by human ears, but not enough to break the spell. “I know it is not normal for anyone but the D.J. to be up here on a Saturday night, but after much begging and groveling, I was able to convince the powers that be to let me play for you.”

The amount of groveling was less than I conveyed to the audience. The Death Day Club’s owner had fallen head over heels in lust with me when we had met the day before. Most humans have a tendency to shy away from my kind, but not modern goths or punks. They seemed to flock to those like me as if they were bees to honey. So, I used the goth owner’s lust to my advantage. A flash of thigh and a hint of chest was all it had taken.

I pulled my electric λύρα out of its case. No other instrument like this existed in the world and I was extremely proud of it. After plugging in the effects peddle I began to play.

The song I played was one I had spent years and years crafting and shaping. Without the stubble shift that the effects peddle gave me, my composition would have been incomplete. It was music to express how lost and lonely I had become. All of the poets who sang about love were correct. Life is not worth living if you do not have someone to share it with. I had not yet found that one, the one with whom I would share everything. The loneliness I had felt from spending all of my life without a mate had been breaking my heart, my soul. With my λύρα and peddle I had traveled from city to city hoping, praying that someone would really listen to my song and sincerely reach out.

At the most heartbreaking point in my song, I looked up from my λύρα. The first thing I saw was the same set of mist gray eyes that I had been admiring before focused on my from across the crowded room. Never before had I seen a purer soul than the one possessed by the young man with mist gray eyes. His soul was brand new and ready to live. I felt my three thousand year old soul instinctually call out to him.

My vision began to shift between my normal sight and the sight granted to me by my gift. The world shifted between sharp images and the glow of life energy. His was the brightest life in the room and it was reaching out to mine. In flashes, I watched as my pale, older energy and his bright, new energy spiraled closer and connected in the middle of the room, twisting together until you could not tell one from the other. A gentle wave of love and warmth filled my being, threatening the tragic melody I played. Tears poured from his eyes as he cried the tears I was forced to hold back. He was the one I had been searching for. He was the first person to truly listen, to understand the music I played. Not even Philip had been able to do that, despite all of our years together. This young man with the mist gray eye was my one, my mate. And I was his.

My fingers slowed on my λύρα and my song faded into silence. The club’s human patrons burst into applause, not able to grasp that this was not a song you celebrated. My loneliness was to be mourned as one of the greatest of tragedies. One last look into his eyes told me that the boy who was destined to be my mate had been just as affected by my music, by what had passed between our souls, as I had been. I wanted to tell him I loved him even though I did not know his name. Instead of racing across the room, a blur to human eyes, I whispered _thank you_ , and hoped that he would hear me through the crowd even as I knew that he would not. I turned away and gathered my λύρα and peddle to head backstage.

The second I was out of sight of any human eyes, bloody tears began to fall down my cheeks.

“Serene,” Philip softly called, surprised to see me crying. “What is the matter? You have never cried so soon after playing.”

I just shook my head to tell him I would explain later. If I had opened my mouth to speak all that would have been vocalized was a sob. The best thing for me to do right then was to leave. 

I could feel where he was. The young man with the mist gray eyes was fighting his way across the quickly filling dance floor and would be backstage in a few short minutes. He did not need, nor did I want him to see me with blood soaked tears rolling down my face. I desperately wanted to see him, but I knew that my current appearance would only terrify him.

Philip took my peddle and led me out through the club’s backdoor and into the night. He headed straight for our most recent car. Ever the servant, Philip opened the passenger door of the BMW and made sure I was settled before he took his place behind the wheel. We were driving out of the Death Day Club’s parking lot before the young man with mist gray eyes ever had a chance of even making it backstage.

 

********

 

The drive to our building in the French Quarter was silent. As Philip parked the car, I climbed up to the balcony of our shared penthouse apartment at the top of the building to avoid anyone in the lobby. There were still red tears spilling out of my eyes, though they had slowed to a trickle, and I could not let anyone see me with my bloody tear stained face.

Once on the balcony, I was able to enter through the unlocked French doors and into the main room. I passed through the room’s neatly arranged furniture, past the untouched kitchen, to the large music nook next to the entryway. I had filled this nook with a grand piano, a concert harp, and a various assortment of string and wind instruments, acoustic and electric. I took my λύρα out of its case and placed it in its stand, making sure none of my tears fell on the instrument. I had no wish to be scrubbing blood stains from its wood later. The λύρα was my favorite and most beloved instrument.

A short way down the hallway, opposite the music nook across the main entryway, was my private room. In the ensuite bathroom I turned on the sink faucet to warm and looked at my face in the mirror. There were only two colors to contrast with the pale white of my skin, the blood red of my tears and the brilliant sapphire blue of my eyes. Those eyes had changed since I had last looked into a mirror before leaving for the Death Day Club earlier that night. My eyes used to tell a tale of loneliness and heartbreak, the same emotions that were amplified in the song I had played. As I continued to look I saw how my eye now sparked with the light of renewed hope. A hope for love, the first such hope I had seen in myself in a long time.

“I found him,” I whispered.

“Found who?” Philip asked, appearing as if from thin air by my side. He had a glass filled with my favorite wine blend in his hand. He knew from past experiences how thirsty I became when I cried.

“The one,” I said as I gratefully took the wine from him. 

I raised the glass to my lips and finished the wine in a single swallow. I set the empty glass down on the bathroom counter, the remnants of the wine blend slowly dripping down the sides. Philip just smiled fondly while he wet a washcloth in the now scalding water. He handed the washcloth to me so I could scrub the blood tracks from my cheeks.

I told Philip everything. I described the young man with mist gray eyes and the bond that had formed between us. I spoke of how the young man’s energy and mine had connected and intertwined. Philip’s smile grew as I talked and washed my face.

“I have to see him again,” I declared when my explanation was over and my face was clean.

I was out of my room and halfway through the main room to the balcony before Philip’s next words stoped me.

“But not tonight.”

I spun around to face him as he stood near the entryway, not understanding why he stoped me. Philip explained his reasoning before I could ask him to.

“The club was close to closing when we left. Even if you were to make it back before it closed…”

“It is very likely that he would already be gone,” I finished as I followed Philip’s thought to its end. I walked over to my favored chair and sank into it, dejected. This was my first human moment in a very long time and it was overwhelming. “That just means I have to wait until tomorrow. I have waited for so long, I can wait a little longer.”

I looked up to Philip as he walked over to confirm that I could actually wait. He gave me one of his most loving, gentle, and reassuring smiles as he rested a hand on my shoulder.

He was out there, my one. I knew so with every particle of my being. I had been waiting for the young man with mist gray eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how quickly I am going to be uploading chapters since I am finishing up my final semester of graduate school. All of the chapters have been written and I'm just going through to edit, update, and post.


	3. Hunter

I had broken three metacarpals in my left hand. It had been very stupid of me to think I could punch a brick wall and win. I hadn’t been thinking clearly at all. She was the only thing on my mind when my anger got the better of me and my fist swung.

Having a broken hand was not the greatest way to start off my final year of college. The fall semester started two days after I’d stupidly hit that wall. Almost all of my courses that semester were computer based. The little nuances that are required for graphic design were nearly impossible with one of my hands incased in plaster. My semester was screwed.

There was a very small upside to having a blank canvas so close. The doodles. By the time lunch came around on the first day, the top of my broken hand was a battle ground for graphic design ideas and doodles of eyes, hands, and what I think was a Greek lyre. My ancient instrument knowledge was low. Fredy and Char were all over my hand as they admired the doodles and conspired to steal the ideas. I just sat at our table in the food court and used my not-broken hand to doodle poorly rendered sketches of my Mystery Beauty in a notebook. All the while, Steve kept shooting me concerned looks over his hamburger.

“Aren’t you going to eat something?” Steve asked me.

“Nope.”

I hadn’t really eaten anything since we’d come back from the emergency room two nights before. My mind was so focused on her, the Mystery Beauty I had missed. The Death Day Club had been closed the night before classes started, which sucked because the club was the only lead I had. I had no clue which area of New Orleans the Mystery Beauty might live in, what her phone number might be, or even what her name was. The only person who might have known any of those things was the owner of the club, since she needed his permission to play on Saturday. So, I had gone two days almost solely focused on her. Steve had reason to be concerned.

“Man, you got to eat something,” Steve insisted, “It’s been a couple of days since I saw you consume anything.”

“Stop worrying about me. I’m not going to starve,” I told him.

“Not yet. What happens if you don’t see the girl again? What then? I know that’s what you’re brooding about.”

“Not again!” Fredy nearly shouted with a scowl on his face.

“She’s just a vamp, man” Char explained for the hundredth time. “You’ve only seen her once and she’s already sucking the life outa ya.”

“This girl is different though,” I started to say, for the hundredth time.

Char just shook his head, which had Fredy ducking to avoid being hit by blond liberty spikes.

“It’s true!” I exclaimed, trying to get them to understand. “She is kind and gentle. She doesn’t suck the life out of men like normal vamps do.”

“But she’s all you’ve been able to think about!” Fredy shouted. His Scottish accent becoming heavier the angrier he became. “For two days you have done nothing but brood, sketch, and talk about how you need to see her again. From what I’ve seen of you, she is the worst kind of vamp there is.”

Steve, Char, and I stared at him. The only things Fredy ever talked about were what he wanted to do with vamps, video games, or the graphics and codes he was creating for potential video games. Fredy was the computer goth Scotland never knew it had.

“Oh, god,” Fredy sighed as he dropped his head into his hands. 

I felt a spark ignite on the back of my head.

“What is it, Fredy?” Char asked. He tried to lean in closer to Fredy’s head, but only managed to poke Fredy with a liberty spike.

Instead of waiting for Fredy to answer I turned around in my seat and froze.

“It’s her,” Fredy’s muffled voice said, “The Queen of the Vamps.”

She had just walked into the food court, closely followed by a dark skinned man who was a foot taller than her. I was shocked. I had never imagined that I would see her at school. She looked so carefree and relaxed compared to when she sang her mournful song, almost happy. It was clear that in the daylight she was even more beautiful than she had been under the glare of stage lights or the dim parking lot lights, especially since she wasn’t wearing any kind of black. The three of us, Fredy still had his head in his hands, watched her and her friend walk halfway across the cafeteria in silence.

“What are you waiting for Hunter? Get up and go!” Steve said as he practically shoved me out of my chair.

With those words I was up and out of my seat, Steve’s push propelling me forward. My heart was telling me to run across the room to where my Mystery Beauty was now sitting, but my head cautioned me to take my time. That dark man hadn’t been with her each time I had seen her at the club, of if he had been I hadn’t noticed him. What if they were together. Sure, he looked a little to old to be with her in more than a platonic sense, but a lot of the girls I had known over the years had gone for older guys… That couldn’t stop me though. She and I had made a connection. She was my Mystery Beauty. I needed to talk to her.

I had barely taken five steps when she looked up and our eyes met. There it was again. That strange feeling that I was gazing straight into her soul through her glimmering sapphire blue eyes. The feeling wasn’t nearly as strong as it had been before. More like a faint flicker of light at the edge of your vision that you’re not sure you are actually seeing.

She was just as surprised to see me as I had been to see her enter the food court. The dark man glanced in my direction as I approached, then leaned over to whisper something in her ear. My Mystery Beauty nodded in response, never taking her beautiful sapphire blue eyes off of me. When I was about four feet from their table, the dark man stood up, quickly looked me over, and left. I didn’t pay any attention to where he went. I was just glad that he had left and that I would be alone with my Mystery Beauty. Well, as alone as two people can be in a crowded food court.

Three feet. Two feet. At one foot away from the table I stoped, once again hit with the notion that I should bow down as a servant in the presence of his divine queen. I felt like I needed her permission to close the distance and take a seat. She must have seen my momentary hesitation because she gave me an encouraging smile and a slight nod.

_Oh god, oh god, oh god,_ I thought as I pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. _Stay calm._

“Hi,” she breathed, her lips forming the words with the barest hint of sound that I shouldn’t have been able to hear.

“Hi,” I brilliantly responded, to stunned for words being so close to her.

My Mystery Beauty was even more beautiful. Her midnight dark hair was coiled on her head in an intricate twist, shinning with radiant health that only well cared hair has. Her skin was a shade of pale that most goths can only hope to achieve. Her cheeks were soft with an underlying sharpness of classical beauty. Her lips were soft pink and delicate, and absolutely perfect for her. The thought of what it might feel like to kiss those lips briefly raced through my head, but all thought fled when I meet her eyes.

The connection I had felt as I approached was nothing compared to the flash I felt when I looked into her eyes from up close for the first time. Our souls must have fused together for the rest of time. At least that is how I would have described it had anyone asked.

I don’t know how long we sat there and stared at each other. Her sapphire blue eyes were so intriguing, the thoughts behind them constantly shifting. Every so often her eyes would sparkle like real sapphires, causing me to believe that those thoughts were special.

She was the first to break the silence following our first hellos.

“What’s your name?” she asked, still in that soft barely there sound. Her voice was like a long forgotten, but loved melody.

“Hu- Hunter,” I stammered as my brain restarted. “Hunter Norwood.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Hunter,” she said with a gorgeous smile that lit up her face. I immediately loved the sound of my name on her lips. “My name is Serene Adona.”

Hers was the most beautiful name I had ever heard.

“I’m glad we finally get meet,” I said with sincerity. “The song you played at Death Day this weekend took my breath away.”

“Really?” she said with a slight hint of skepticism.

“Honest. It was a beautiful song. The emotion you put into it was so sad. I’d never heard anything so lonely and tragic before. But all that made it, made you, more beautiful.” 

_I just told her she was beautiful._ Evidently, I had more courage than I had thought. Or my sanity had just walked out the door. Either way, I was talking with her and I was thrilled.

“Thank you. I’ve been working on that particular song for a really long time.”

She looked through me and into a distance so far away I could only dream of seeing it someday. After a few seconds, Serene brought her focus back to the present and gave me a radiant smile.

“But I do not plan on playing that composition ever again. I have started to work on a new song, one that I am hoping will be more joyful.”

In a fit of insanity, I glanced over to the clock in the wall behind Serene’s head. It was almost one o’clock and I was going to be late for my next class if I didn’t run.

“Shit,” I cursed, standing up. “I have to leave.”

“So soon?” she asked

She stood up when I did. She wanted me to stay. I hesitated for a moment. It was only the fear of what my mentor would say, or rather what extra work she would make me do, if I skipped the first class of the semester.

“Yeah, I have class with my mentor in five minutes. Can I see you again?”

I took a bold step around the table, needing to be closer to her.

“Yes,” she said with another beautiful smile that I returned.

She took a step closer to me, closing the gap between us to a single foot. My face felt like it was on fire as all of the blood rushed to my cheeks. Her eyes quickly glanced down at the sudden bright color. I almost didn’t care that she could see how flushed I was getting so close to her.

“Will you meet me tonight at the Death Day Club? Maybe around eight? I know it’s the beginning of the week and we probably both have classes tomorrow, but we can try to find somewhere to talk.” I really hopped she would say yes.

“Sounds perfect.”

I may have been hallucinating, but her smile got even more radiant, lighting up the entire cafeteria.

“I’ll see you then,” I said, breathless in awe.

I lingered for a moment or two, not wanting to take my eyes of my Mystery Beauty, but I couldn’t be any more late than I was already going to be. Walking out of the food court almost killed me. I bumped into so many people as I continuously looked back over my shoulder as I walked to the doors. I didn’t care. Her amused smile and laugh were worth it. I walked out of that food court smiling like an absolute idiot.

Serene.


	4. Serene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second conversation and meeting a few drunk friends.

Hunter. His name had me thinking that Artemis had chosen him for me.

When I had first seen the young man with the mist gray eyes it had not crossed my mind that he could be the age for university. After so much time, the ages of individual humans ceased to be a concern. So it hadn’t occurred to me that I would find Hunter at Tulane.

I was enrolled to complete yet another masters degree in music performance solely so I could continue to perform in a professional setting that was appropriate for the age group I resembled. Music had been one of the very few connections in my life that had kept meaning as my existence became a tragedy. Music allowed me to express the extent of my sorrow and loneliness when words failed me. As soothing as my own compositions could be, I could only find a measure of true emotional peace when I played with or for others. So I always found a way to join local orchestras for as long as I could, more often than not at the collegiate level since that was the age range I blended in with most. Attending classes to maintain the collegiate facade helped to fill the multitude of hours Philip and I had each day and helped us to blend in.

Seeing Hunter in the food court on Tulane’s campus was a wonderful surprise. He spotted me first, a feat few humans had ever achieved. I was in the habit of being aware of my surroundings and what the humans around me were doing. But I was not infallible.

The conversation I had with Hunter, learning his name, learning that he desired to see me as well, made the agony of waiting for two days between first seeing him at the Death Day Club and meeting him at Tulane worth it. As the two of us conversed, my deepest desire was to tell him everything about myself. Hunter was completely sincere when he spoke of my sad and lonely composition. He found the desolation I strove to portray beautiful. Others who had commented on my music had told me that the had felt depression and heartache, that listening was terribly hard. Hunter was able to find the beauty where no one else could. I wished to tell him about the many years I had spent searching for someone like him. No, searching for him. I wished to tell him how my horribly lonely song was the work of multiple life times. I wished to tell him how, because we had met, I was never going to play those depressing notes again. I wished to tell him about the new composition I had begun to craft. A composition fueled by hope and love. I wished to tell him how this new composition was about him and our connection.

Despite this desperate urge, I held back. I felt as if we had known each other since the beginning of time. I had to remind myself of how short a time had actually passed. Philip’s gaze from across the food court, out of Hunter’s sight, was a helpful reminder. Telling Hunter too much, too soon would overwhelm him. The last thing I wanted was Hunter running away. Revealing my secrets would have to be a slow process, or at least as slow a process as my enthusiasm could allow for. So I contented myself with the joy of suddenly finding myself in his presence and learning him name. Hunter Norwood. My Hunter.

As my Hunter walked away, off to his next class, I watched as he bumped into multiple people as he tried to keep me in his sights. I chuckled to myself and gave Hunter a little wave as he finally walked through the food court doors and outside. Philip rejoined me as I stood next to the table Hunter and I had sat at.

“So, that was him,” Philip remarked in a neutral tone.

“Yes,” I said, still smiling in the direction Hunter exited. “His name is Hunter Norwood, and he wants me to meet with him tonight at the Death Day Club.” My smile threatened to burn my pale skin.

“Would you like me to go with you?” he asked. Philip kept any opinion he had of Hunter to himself.

“No…” I said. “Hunter might not understand and think that we are romantically involved.”

I frowned. I did not want Hunter thinking that I did not want to be with him in every way possible. The best of friends, the closeness of lovers, however Hunter wished to have me in his life. Seeing Philip may have Hunter assuming Philip and I shared a level of intimacy that we did not have.

“I believe it would be better if you were not there. I promise to introduce you soon.”

“As you command, Serene,” Philip said with a fond smile.

He had already known my answer before he had asked the question. After centuries together knew my mind as well as I did myself.

For the remainder of the day, my thoughts were consumed by Hunter.

 

********

 

Once my own classes were finished for the day, I still had several hours until I was to meet Hunter at the Death Day Club. I stood in front of my closet in the apartment I shared with Philip and contemplated what I would wear. This was a very rare human moment for me. My second such moment since I had first seen Hunter. I personally did not place much importance on clothing, only exerting enough effort to blend into the local populace. But Hunter was different. I wanted to make an special effort for him.

From the quick glance I had given Hunter’s friends in the food court, they were all obviously modern goths. Their appearances colored with dark clothing and makeup.  Hunter was no different. What did he think of me? Of my appearance? I preferred lighter, pastel colors that detracted from how pale my skin was. However, in order to blend in with the modern goth crowd that frequented the Death Day Club it was necessary to dress the part.

I chose an outfit that would pair well with Hunter’s minimalistic gothic style. A deep blue blouse that I knew drew attention to my eyes. A knee length, black skirt. Black calf high boots. My hair went into an intricate twist that fanned out like a dark sun on the crown of my head. A small amount of makeup brought some color to my complexion that was lost in the high contrast with my dark clothes. Navy blue nail polish to accent my hands and three small bangle bracelets on my left wrist. The bangles had been a gift from a Native American mystic to bring me courage during one of my lowest points.

I ran from mine and Philip’s apartment to the Death Day Club. I have always preferred running. The speed and the skill needed to pass those around me unseen, the freedom to go where ever I choose in a blink of an eye. The rush of the wind in my hair was the closest I ever felt to flying.

I slowed down when I reached the edge of the parking lot next to the Death Day Club, making sure to stay in the shadows. Hunter was already there, leaning against a car, scanning the few people loitering outside the entrance. He was the perfect picture of a gentleman, if modern goths could be considered gentleman. He had cleaned up his slightly ragged appearance from earlier in the afternoon when we met in the food court. His hair was styled just enough to look a little messy, but not styled to the point that it would not be soft to the touch if I ran my fingers through it. The small amount of eyeliner he was wearing around those beautiful eyes was no longer smudged. The chipped nail polish had been replaced by a fresh coat of matte black. His black pants were crisp and his short sleeved shirt and leather vest, both black, were well cared for and loved. Hunter looked amazing.

The sound of my boots on the pavement as I walked across the parking lot caught Hunter’s attention. The brilliant smile that lit up his face as he turned towards me was a perfect match for my own. Hunter’s happiness at seeing me brought a spark to those misty gray eyes that I loved.

“Hi,” he said with a slight tremor in his voice.

He ran a trembling hand through his hair, revealing his nerves more than his voice had. It crossed my mind that maybe the style of his hair wasn’t intentional. 

“Hi,” I said with what little breath remained in my lungs.

I wanted to say more, but I held back. I hoped that he would take the lead that night, since it had been an eon since I had last attempted a romantic relationship. I didn’t want to lead us in the wrong direction or progress so fast that nothing we did had any real meaning.

Plus, I had always been what many people now considered as old-fashioned when it came to interacting romantically with the opposite gender. The gentleman was the one who did the courting at the lady’s urging.

Hunter cleared his throat in another nervous gesture.

“Shall we go inside?” he asked with a small gesture towards the clubs entrance.

I nodded, taking a few seconds to remember what it was like to breath like a human.

“I have to ask you something,” Hunter told me as he paid our entrance fees. “You’re not really into the whole goth scene, are you?”

“No, but I do find the whole movement a little intriguing. Modern goths kind of remind me of the Cult of Hades.”

“The Cult of who?” 

Hunter had to lean in close to me in order to hear me as we entered the club proper. Despite the fact that it was a Monday night, the music was loud and the club was a little over half full.

As we made our way around the dance floor, Hunter daringly placed one of his hands on the small of my back to gently guide me in the direction of a secluded table in one of the corners of the club. His close proximity and his touch sent invisible shivers racing up and down my spine. If my heart had a beat it would have stuttered. All of these sensations I was feeling when I was with him were new to me. It seemed to be taking most of my concentration to focus on our conversation and not how warm his hand was on my back through my blouse.

“Hades,” I repeated at a higher volume. “The god of death and the ruler of the underworld. Those who worshiped him were obsessed with dark hues and death.”

“Not all goths are into death,” Hunter began to tell me when a new voice interrupted him.

“Just us death goths.”

The voice came from a young man who was sitting at the table Hunter had been leading me to. Hunter dropped his hand from my back at the sound of the new voice but did not step away.

The stranger stood up and took a couple of steps towards us. He was slightly taller than Hunter, with very short blond hair and ocean blue eyes. Those eyes were ringed with black and gray makeup that transformed his face into a skull with hollow eyes. Skulls was a theme through out the young man’s ensemble. A ring, a couple of necklaces, and a bracelet all had skull iconography. There was no mistaking that he was a modern death goth.

“Wow, Hunter,” the young man said. “You were right. She is breath taking.” With a quick glance at Hunter he extended his hand out to me. “I’m Steve Spencer, Hunter’s best friend and housemate.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” I said, stretching my hand out to his. “I am Serene Adona.”

Instead of shaking my hand like anyone else in the twenty-first century would have, Steve clasped my hand and raised it to his lips to lightly kiss, as if he were an victorian era gentleman. I was surprised at Steve gesture and surprised that he did not react in anyway to the cold temperature of my skin. Most humans found the temperature difference unnerving and pulled away. Not Steve though. His lack of response informed me that I would have to keep an eye on him. He might be able to figure things out.

“And it is a pleasure to meet you,” Steve replied after kissing my hand. “Your table awaits.”

And with a small flourish, Steve walked away in the direction fo the dance floor.

“You’ll have to excuse him. He has a flare for the dramatic,” Hunter explained. “Would you like something to drink?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said.

I reached into a slim pocket on my skirt to pull out some money.

“I would love a Bloody Mary, extra red.”

When I tried to hand Hunter a couple of bills he refused them.

“I’ve got it,” he said with a smile. “Have a seat and I’ll be right back.”

Hunter walked off in the direction of the bar, looking back over his shoulder at me until he was forced to watch the crowd, unless he bump into people.

I obediently sat down at the table Steve had kindly saved for us and turned to watch Hunter. He seemed calm as he made his way through the crowd. Anyone could have seen that he was comfortable in the Death Day Club, surrounded by other modern goths. While he waited for the bartender to mix our drinks, Hunter glanced back towards me at regular intervals. I held my gaze steady, at ease and happy to stare at the handsome young man I was with, and wanting him to know I was looking. With each of his glances, Hunter’s cheeks turned deeper and deeper shades of red. By the time he finally paid for the drinks and carried them back to the table, his entire face was as red as a lobster and I could hear his heart beating a mile a minute. Hunter most likely thought that the dim lighting in the club would hide his blush.

“Here you are,” he mumbled as he placed the Bloody Mary before me.

The extra red in the Bloody Mary smelled wonderful and tasted even better. It was exactly what I needed to remain calm, focused, and completely in control of myself. Hunter took a drink of what looked and smelled like a whisky and coke before continuing the conversation he had started before Steve introduced himself.

“So, if you’re not a goth,” Hunter said. “Then why go out of your way to come to a goth club?”

“You mean, why was I here the other night?” I asked.

“Basically.”

“Well, I was here to play,” I told him. “I had already played the song you heard at a few other venues in the area, but I had not received the right response from any of those audiences.”

“And Death Day gave you the response you were looking for?”

I looked right into his mist gray eyes to connect to his soul.

“Yes.”

Hunter was silent. His mind was most likely reeling from the implication that his reaction was the one I had craved. After a moment, I took his silence as an opportunity to ask a question of my own. I broke our eye contact to glance down at the cast that rested on the table between us.

“How did you hurt your hand?” I asked.

Hunter’s visceral reaction surprised me. With the break in eye contact he had reached for his whisky and was taking a sip. His surprised jump caused him to choke on the sip and begin coughing. I slid my hand across the table as if to squeeze his hand in concern, but my hand stopped a few inches away before I could touch him.

“I’m okay,” he told me as his coughing subsided. “I was stupid. I mean, I hurt my hand doing something ridiculously stupid.”

Hunter looked at me with a small smile on his lips, as if that was all the explanation he would need to give. I pulled my hand back from where it was resting near his and gave him an encouraging smile, silently asking him to continue. His smile dimmed a bit, and his eyes looked down into his glass before he continued.

“After you’d finished playing the other night, I rushed across the club and backstage to try and find you. Instead I found some kid coiling cords who told me that you had gone out the backdoor. So, through the door I went. When I didn’t find you outside, and I couldn’t see a sign as to which way you might have gone, my frustration became physical. I punched a wall. It was extremely stupid of me.”

I laid one of my hands on top of his uninjured hand and gave a light squeeze. Wide eyes darted up to meet mine at the contact. It was hard to tell if he was astonished I had touched him or at the temperature of my skin.

“Everyone does stupid things once in a while,” I told him.

His hand was so warm under mine. It felt as if I was holding a miniature sun that could burn through my ice cold skin. I never wanted to let go. Hunter gave me a small, timid smile. His gaze moved to our hands as he intwined our fingers together, palm to palm. The increase in contact sent a shiver down my spine as a pleasant heat began to rise up my arm.

“Your hand is so cold,” Hunter whispered.

“I have a small circulation problem that leaves me a degree or so cooler than average. Nothing to worry about,” I said with ease.

I ignored the pang of guilt at lying to Hunter, even if it was by omission. My blood didn’t actually circulate, which was why I was so cold. It was by no means a “little” circulation problem.

Hunter nodded in acceptance before changing the subject.

“I was surprised to see you at Tulane today. What are you studying?”

“So many questions,” I teased. “And with the night so young.”

I was testing his reaction to teasing. If he could handle it. He just gave me a beautiful smile, more confidence radiating off of him than I had seen so far.

“Questions are the best way to get to know someone and to start a conversation. So, what are you studying?”

I was glad to see Hunter becoming more comfortable with me as our night went on. I took a moment to sip my Bloody Mary, never letting go of Hunter’s hand.

“I am in Tulane’s Master of Fine Arts in Musical Performance. I play the piano, flute, and violin.”

I listed the instruments the university had in their records, choosing to omit the extraordinary list of instruments I considered myself to be a master of.

“Wow.” Hunter squeezed my hand. “That is amazing! Three instruments. No, wait, four. You were playing that strange harp the other night.”

“A lyre,” I said to gently correct him. “It was a modernized lyre, modeled after those played in Ancient Greece.”

“A lyre. That is definitely different, but in a good way.” 

Hunter reassured me with a smile.

“Which instrument is your favorite?” He asked.

“My λυρα,” I said without any thought.

I shocked myself by speaking so quickly. I was constantly checking myself around humans. It took some effort to maintain a human facade. I recovered to quickly for Hunter to even register my shift in emotion.

“My lyre. I crafted it myself, electronics and all. It keeps me connected to my Greek heritage and reminds me why I love music.”

“Crafted? That means you made it, design and all. Wow. That is a level of devotion that I have only ever seen in the guys who design and build their own video game consoles.”

“My λυρα is one of a kind,” I said with pride. “I designed and then carved the body and supports myself. The strings are the best money can buy. I did not originally design the electrical components, but improved them so they would fit the specifications of my λυρα.”

“Your Greek heritage must have been what inspired you to put so much effort into such a unique instrument. Are you from Greece then?”

“I was born in Greece, in Thebes, and so were my parents and older brother.”

I told Hunter the simple story Philip and I had created to tell curious humans and university officials. I promised myself that some day soon I would tell Hunter the truth of my origins. I hated having to lie to him. Everything in me was burning to tell the truth.

“My parents moved us to America when I was still an infant in order to give my brother and I a chance to pursue the dreams that they had never had.”

“So, the darker skinned man who was with you in the cafeteria was…”

Hunter’s voice was so hopeful. He must have thought Philip and I might be a couple at some point. I was glad to dash those thoughts.

“My older brother, yes,” I said with a smile.

Hunter exhaled a little sigh in relief. I chuckled.

“So, what about you?” I asked

“What do you mean, what about me?”

The pressure on my hand increased ever so slightly. I doubt Hunter realized he had squeezed my hand.

“I mean, what are you studying? Where dose your family come from?”

“That ‘about me,’” he said with a nervous laugh.

Hunter fumbled with his glass to take a drink of his whisky and coke using the hand in the cast. His fingers intentionally tightened around mine as I tried to release my grip to free his good hand. He did not want to let go.

“The study question is easy. I’m in my last year of my BA in Digital Design with an emphasis in graphic design,” Hunter said.

“So you’re an artist,” I said with a perk in my voice. “I have never been able to draw myself, but I have always found the visual arts to be fascinating.”

“I haven’t really thought about it like that, but I guess I am an artist. I’ve taken drawing classes and can draw decently well in a formal way, but graphic design is much more than that.”

An almost devout love for the twenty-first century art form radiated from Hunter. He loved graphic design with the same intensity that I loved to play music.

“A majority of the work is done on a computer,” Hunter continued. “That was a bit hard for me today.”

Hunter raised the hand that was incased in plaster with a sheepish smile on his face. I gave him a sympathetic smile.

“What do you want to do with a degree in graphic design?” I asked.

I recognized the enthusiasm that lit up Hunter’s face. It was the same enthusiasm that lit up my own when I found the perfect perfect notes.

“My dream is to have my own business designing posters, logos, and videos for high end clubs and companies. Most of my professors have told me I have the potential to go far with my designs, and I’ve even had a couple of small advertising companies look at my portfolio and offer me the promise of employment once I graduate. What I lack is the business minor that would help me start out on my own. If I had figured out my dream to own my own design business before my senior year then a few things would be a bit easier going forward.”

He said the last part with a little shrug. The past was past and nothing could be changed. I liked that.

“Surely that wont stop you though. If you really need to learn the business aspect you can learn that along the way,” I said.  
“Exactly! My first step is going to have to be making my way into the field and creating a good reputation. Then, if I still need to, I’ll start taking a few business classes. I just really hope I’m headed in the right direction.”

“It already sounds like you are. Your enthusiasm is wonderful.”

I could not help but give him a bright, encouraging smile to match his own infectious one.

I finished off the last of my Bloody Mary just before the last of the extra red warmed to room temperature. The average room temperature was when most humans could smell it.

“So, now your family,” I said as I set the empty glass down. “I have talked a little bit about mine, so now it’s your turn to talk about yours.”

Hunter’s relaxed smile dimmed just a touch, enough to let me know that his own heritage was not a very comfortable topic.

“There’s not much to say about them. Both of my parents were born in the same, small Louisiana town they were raised in. My dad inherited the family grocery store from his dad and my mom married my dad because she wanted to be a grocer’s wife. It was one of the most stable jobs in such a small town. From the time I could walk and carry a box at the same time my dad had me working in the family store. Since money was tight I had to get a second job flipping hamburgers at the local grill while I was in high school in order to have enough for college.”

I was silent for a moment. It was hard for me to imagine what it must have been like to grow up without money. I had lived in privilege for all of my life.

“That must have been rough.” It was the only thing I could think to say.

“It wasn’t so bad. My parents did their best by me, even if they did want me to stay home and become another Norwood grocer. I could never really understand why they never wanted to leave. I wanted to get out of there so much that I practically jumped out of my skin when Tulane accepted me,” Hunter confessed.

“I think some people become set in their ways and are comfortable to the point of complete satisfaction. Others, not so much.”

“You’re one of those ‘not so much’ people, aren’t you?” he asked.

“I think we both are.”

Before Hunter and I could steer our conversation to a brighter topic, two young men near the dance floor drew my attention. One had blond liberty spikes and several facial piercings, while the other had ginger hair of the Scottish variety framing a face littered with freckles. A small crowd had been drawn in by the parlor tricks they were attempting, and failing, to pull off. A chuckle escaped my lips, which had Hunter turning around in his seat to see what I was laughing at.

“Oh no,” he muttered under his breath.

He turned back around and dropped his head into his free hand, which was the one incased in plaster.

“Ouch,” he muttered.

Hearing the word of pain, I focused my attention back on Hunter.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

I lightly squeezed his hand. By this point my hand was almost the same temperature as his.

“Yeah,” he said. “The whole head-in-the-hand thing doesn’t exactly work when the hand you have to use is in a cast.” His smile was sheepish. “Those two are the kind of idiots who make you want to hide your face.”

“You know them?”

“Embarrassingly so. The cyber goth with the red hair is Fredy. The punk goth with the liberty spikes is Char. They are my friends and housemates and they are always ready to make fools of themselves.”

“While you stand off to the side and laugh,” I guessed jokingly.

“Basically.”

Hunter’s smile told me that he was relieved I would not judge him to harshly on his choice of friends. A couple of minutes later, Steve found Hunter and I sitting silently at our table, staring at each other, smiling, our hands still clasped.

“Could you two be any more cheesy?” Steve asked.

Needless to say Steve broke the moment. Neither Hunter or I gave him a response.

“Hunter, man, we have to get Fredy and Char home before they get themselves kicked out. Last time Rock said that if they caused a ruckus again, all four of us would be banned from the club.” Steve was slightly distressed by this thought.

We all looked over at the two boys in question and saw that they had moved onto attempts at gymnastics. They must have had a few too many drinks because whenever one of them would bend down so their head was below their stomaches the would shoot back up and sway.

Hunter sighed and stood up. Unfortunately, he had to let go of my hand to do so.

“You all could have stayed at home,” Hunter muttered under his breath to low for another human to hear. “You’re right,” he said to Steve. “I’m sorry Serene. I have to cut our night short.”

His beautiful gray eyes told me that he would have preferred to continue spending time with me rather than dealing with his drunk friends.

“I understand,” I told him, standing up. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Maybe.”

Hunter followed Steve, and I followed Hunter, over to the edge of the dance floor where Fredy and Char were making fools of themselves. Fredy was the first to spot us.

“Stevey, Hunty!” the Scottish man slurred. His accent was thick. “There you are. Hey Char!”

Fredy gave his friend a push to get his attention that sent them both staggering.

“Hey Char, look, Stevey and Hunty brought the Queen of the Vamps with them!”

Loathing dripped from the drunk man’s words. I froze. Terror filled my mind, but I kept my expression smooth and blank. Did he know what he was saying? Fredy was clearly drunk, but did he know something he was not supposed to? Panic began to spread from my stomach to my limbs. I did not want to abandon this life, not when I had just found my mate, but if certain fact had been discovered, or even speculated, then I would have to run.

As the split second of pure terror passed and began to morph into panic, my eyes cautiously slid to Hunter. His own eyes were downcast, avoiding mine, with a lopsided smile as blood pooled in cheeks. He was blushing. He was embarrassed by what his friend had said. Hunter’s embarrassment distracted me from my terror and panic. Then I smelled it. The faint aroma coming from the excess blood that had pooled under Hunter’s skin was as mesmerizing as a tangy ocean breeze. Human blood had never smelled so beautiful to me before. In seconds, I was relaxed, the terror and panic gone.

Hunter’s next words, whispered to me alone, reminded me where my focus should be.

“The four of us started calling women ‘vamps’ shortly after we all met freshman year,” he told me, still avoiding my eyes. “It’s short for vampires, because it was our shared opinion that women sucked the life out of men.”

It was clear that he was now disgusted with the idea. Relief washed over me and I relaxed. It was such an innocent use of a word that could be so very dangerous for me. I laid a reassuring hand on Hunter’s arm. I was not offended by their immature use of the word. Hunter met my eyes and gave me his own look of relief at my positive response.

“Wow, man,” Char said to Hunter while his glazed over eyes were on me. “She’s hot and I mean really, really hot.”

“I know,” Hunter said. “I completely agree with you.”

He tried to keep his eyes locked with mine while also catching a stumbling Char. Hunter’s eye had a bright spark to them, which would have had me blushing if I was able to.

Steve grabbed Fredy and pulled him towards the club’s entrance. Fredy suffered being dragged in silence, but kept shooting me looks over his shoulder. Each look was filled with animosity and tinged with hate. One of Hunter’s friends did not like me.

“Hey Serene?” Steve called out as we all exited the building.

“Yes?”

Steve tossed me a set of car keys over his shoulder. Hunter and Char’s eyes widened comically as I caught the keys.

“Open the car, would you?” Steve asked.

With a nod, I walked ahead of the four of them to an old and run down four door car that perfectly matched the rusting keys Steve had tossed to me. I opened both doors into the backseat. Steve dumped Fredy into the seat behind the driver while Hunter helped Char on the other side. Fredy continued to shoot me seething looks as he was loaded and when Hunter grabbed my hand to gently pull me away from his friends prying eyes. He did not let my hand go as he spoke.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t spend more time together. They are dammed idiots,” Hunter said.

He quickly raised his casted hand to rake it through his hair, but I caught it with my hand not already holding his to prevent him from hurting himself. We were now linked through both hands, or at least as much as we could be with one of Hunter’s hands incased in plaster. A pleasant shiver ran up my spine.

“It’s alright,” I said. “Sometimes friends do stupid things. Will I have the chance to see you again?

“Of course!” Hunter’s smile turned the night into day. “How about Thursday night? There’s this great Greek restaurant a few blocks from here.”

He was so hopeful. I hated to tell him I was not available that night.

“Unfortunately, Thursday is not good for me. The orchestra I perform with rehearses late on Thursday nights. Unless you would like to meet up afterwards, around one in the morning…”

I trailed off as his body slumped forward. After a second, he perked back up.

“What about Friday?” he asked. “We could meet up and go see a movie?”

“That sounds amazing. How do you feel about meeting in front of my building?”

I let go of his casted hand to reach into the slim pocket of my skirt to take out a small piece of paper. Hunter fumbled with it since he grabbed it with his casted hand, refusing to let go of the good hand that was still holding mine. When he read the address I had written down his eyebrows rose up his forehead.

“Alright,” he said, his voice nearly a pitch higher than it had been before, “Does three work for you?”

“Perfectly. I will see you on Friday then.”

“Friday,” he agreed.

I took a step closer and stood up on my toes to reach his cheek and lay a soft kiss on his brightly burning skin. That skin was warm and soft. So delectable, but so very breakable. I was terrifyingly reminded of how different we were, reminded of how much I may ask him to give up one day. I never wanted to let go.

It was a challenge to keep a positive smile on my face as I pulled away and lowered my heels. I looked into his mist gray orbs as I released his hand and slowly backed away. Seeing me retreat, Hunter attempted to walk backwards towards Steve’s car, trying not to take his eyes off of me. But when he eventually glanced over his shoulder to ensure that he was heading in the right direction, taking his eyes off of me for the briefest of seconds, I ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! More will come soon.


	5. Hunter

Her lips were cold. Cold and soft. They were all I could think about as Steve drove Fredy, Char and I back to the house we all shared near the university. Serene had kissed me on the cheek with the lightest of touches, like she was afraid that she might break me if she used to much pressure. The kiss, though brief, was so caring and sweet, even though her lips were colder than any others I had ever felt. But why were Serene’s lips so frigid? Her hands had been unnaturally cold each time we touched. I knew that she had a circulation problem, which explained her hands, but did that apply to lips as well? I tried to focus on the fact that she had kissed me and not on the temperature difference. Oh, how I wanted to kiss her lips. The suddenness of her movement and the coldness of her lips had me frozen in surprise.

And then Serene disappeared. After kissing my cheek she had backed away and  I had kept my eyes on her as I walked away. Until I was forced to look behind me to see where I was going. In that glance I had seen Steve by the car making large arm waving gestures to hurry me along. When I looked back, Serene was gone. One minute, no one second, she was there and in the next she had disappeared. It was like she had vanished into thin air.

Steve’s neck snapping stop in front of our house brought me back to the present. I shot Steve a murderous glare, which he answered with an apologetic shrug as he parked. Thankfully, the car ride had lulled Fredy and Char into silence. I much preferred dealing with tired drunks than with energetic ones. Steve and I got out of the car to help the drunks.

“Are we home yet?” Char asked.

His spikes almost poked holes through my face as I helped him out of the backseat.

“Yea, we’re home,” I told him once I had him standing on the sidewalk.

Steve dragged Fredy ahead of myself and Char to unlock the front door. I had to drag a stumbling Char through the door and up the stairs to his bed, which was not easy. Char was out before his ass hit the sheets. I left him passed out on top of his stuff, completely clothed, and went back downstairs to the kitchen to wait for Steve.

I pulled a couple of water bottles out of the fridge and was cracking mine open when Steve walked in.

“Thanks man,” Steve said, grabbing a water bottle.

“Fredy passed out?” I asked.

“Yea,” Steve said in between sips. “He’d already started mumbling code in his sleep. What about Char?”

“Out like a light. Those two are idiots.”

“With that I can agree.”

We settled into a companionable silence, leaning against the counters, drinking our waters. My thoughts drifted back to Serene. Just thinking about her sent pleasant shivers up and down my spine.

“…ter… Hunter, Hunter, man, are you in there?”

My mind reluctantly let the mental picture of Serene in the food court earlier that day fade into the sight of Steve standing in front of me waving a hand in my face. 

“Man, you’re spilling water all over yourself,” he said once he had my attention.

I looked down and cursed. My grip had slackened on my water bottle as my mind had drifted and I’d managed to spill about a quarter of the bottle’s contents on myself and the floor. I put the bottle down on the counter and grabbed a towel to see how much I could mop up.

“You were really spacing there. Thinking about Serene?” Steve asked with a chuckle as I attempted to dry my pants.

“Yea,” I admitted, “I can’t get her out of my head and I don’t want to either. I know I’ve said this before, but she and I are connected in a way I’ve never experienced. We’re meant to be together. We’ve only gone out once now, and in a fairly crowded club with you three watching, but… I think she’s the one. Steve, I think I want to spend the rest of my life with this woman.”

It was scary to admit such a thing out loud, but hearing the words leave my mouth I knew they were true.

“Wow,” Steve said. He wasn’t chuckling anymore. “One date and you already know.”

“Yea.”

Steve nodded, taking this as seriously as I was. I knew Fredy would harp about how much Serene had taken over my thoughts and then hate her for it, and Char would think she was hot and only good for closed door activity. But Steve understood. Steve was able to see just how much Serene meant to me in such a short period of time. That understanding was one of the reasons Steve was my best friend.

After a few minutes of pondering, Steve spoke up.

“What did you think of her hands?”

“They were beautiful and graceful and fit perfectly in mine, not counting the cast,” I automatically told him with a fond smile.

“Not that,” he said with a smirk, “Of course you’re going to think every part of her is perfect. What did you think of the chill?”

I was hoping to avoid this conversation with Steve, but obviously he had noticed Serene’s lower body temperature when he had kissed her hand. I gave him the same explanation Serene had given me. I didn’t know what else to say.

“She has some sort of circulation problem which makes her hands a few degrees colder,” I said.

Steve’s eyes were wide and incredulous. I sighed.

“What are you thinking?” I reluctantly asked him.

“Nothing much. I just have a small hunch.”

I waited a few seconds in expectant silence.

“Are you going to tell me?” I asked.

“Nope. If my theory is right then she has to be the one to tell you, not me.”

Steve was constantly coming up with personal theories about the world and refusing to share them with anyone until his theory was proven or not. Eventually this would make him a great scientist, but right now was just annoying to those of us who called him our friend. So, I let his hunch slide into silence and went to bed.

 

********

 

The next week could not have gone by more slowly. It was torture to have to go to class knowing that Serene must have been somewhere on campus for her music classes. If I had known which building she was in I would have tried to find her. To just say hi, or ask how her day had been. I would have even been happy to catch a glimpse of her. Unfortunately for me, the music department was spread out through a few buildings in Tulane’s School of the Liberal Arts and I had only gone over there once, maybe twice. Part of me still needed convincing that Serene was real. My memories were already fading with time and I didn’t want to forget a single detail.

My friends had varying reactions to my struggle. Steve understood. But, our conversation in the kitchen was all I had to go on since he was spending most of his time in the biology labs doing bio-chem experiments. Fredy gave me the cold shoulder. The morning after my date with Serene he only said one thing to me, and he didn’t even say it out loud. Instead he typed the message out on his tablet and held it up for me to read. _I can’t believe you succumbed to the Queen of All Vamps, you idiot. You no longer have any dignity in the eyes of man._ I left Fredy to his own devices after that. Char, on the other hand, stayed his normal punk self. Immediately after telling Fredy he was a dumbass for refusing to talk to me, Char asked how long I was going to wait before I tried to get into the vamp’s pants. I smacked the back of his head and told him to have more respect. He proceeded to ignore me.

Almost needless to say, I couldn’t wait until Friday.

Day of my nerves were running high. My room was a disaster zone, clothing strewn across every available service, including the perch I kept in the corner for my crow, David. David was not happy with the mess. As I paced around through the mess, getting ready, David let me know his displeasure. His glossy black feathers were ruffled, and he let out the occasional angered _caw_. I ignored him for the most part, my mind occupied by my nerves.

On my way out the door, Char wished me luck. His version of luck was miming how he thought my night should end. I flipped him the bird at his vulgar display. Fredy, who was sitting next to Char, ignored me. I said bye to him anyway.

The bus line that picked up at the corner of the street I lived on had a stop a few blocks away from the address Serene had given me. I managed to reach the stop near Serene’s before the time we agreed to meet. I figured I could just loiter outside of Serene’s apartment building for a few minutes before entering to find her.

As I approached the entrance I was wonderfully surprised to see that I wouldn’t have to wait at all. Serene was already out on the side walk, waiting for me.

She was a captivating sight to behold in the daylight. I had seen her during the day before in Tulane’s food court, but I had been in shock at seeing her in the first place that the details of her appearance in the sun hadn’t registered. In the sun her hair was a shimmering mixture of raven black, midnight blue, and garnet red. The very subtle shift in color meant that this was her natural hair color. Today, it fell in a straight curtain to the center of her back. The dark color contrasted sharply with her pale skin. I had only seen a handful of people with skin as pale as her’s, and compared to them Serene was filled with so much more life. Her skin had the softest of pink flushes to it from standing in the sun. Her complexion was flawless.

All thoughts fled my mind when Serene looked up and caught my eyes. Her bright, sapphire eyes locked with mine as a radiant smile lit up her face. She was even more beautiful when she smiled. She waved a greeting and the lights bouncing off her bracelets sparkled like stars in the sun. I closed the remaining distance between us with an enormous smile on my face. I stopped about a foot away from her, a distance too close for having met about a week ago. I yearned to be even closer.

“Hi,” I said, lost in her beauty.

“Hello, Hunter.”

I loved the sound of my name on her lips. Sweet like fruit, but rich like dark chocolate. We stood there in front of her building and stared at each other for a few seconds. I absorbed as many details about her from such a close distance. The light blue of her tank top made her bare shoulders and cheeks look almost rosy and caused her deep blue sapphire eyes seem a shade or two lighter. I could see the edge of a bright green, flared skirt as it hugged her hips and swirled out. She looked like a dazzling exotic flower, especially next to my goth black. Serene even smelled exotically floral, as if she had just stepped out of a rainforest. At least, the scent was how I imagined a rainforest to smell since I had never been outside of Louisiana. Slowly, coherent thought returned to me and I was able form a sentence.

“You look beautiful today,” I breathed. It blew my mind that she was here with me.

“Thank you,” she said, just as quiet. 

Serene ducked her head for a moment. I thought she might be blushing and was a little surprised to see her cheeks were their normal pale shade when she looked back up at me.

“You don’t look to bad yourself,” she said. “Black really suits you.” I felt my cheeks heat up, but I refused to look away.

“That’s good to hear,” I said. “Since black is the color that dominates a good ninety percent of my closet.” Her eyes danced with silent laughter.

“People are starting to stare,” she said without ever breaking eye contact to look around.

I looked up and saw that people were indeed slowing down to stare at us as they walked past. Truthfully, I didn’t blame them. Serene and I were standing in the middle of the sidewalk in front of her building, fairly close to each other, not touching, but wrapped up in our own little universe. I would have stared at us too had I been passing by. I took a step back and held out my uninjured hand to her in invitation.

“Shall we go then?” I asked.

Serene nodded and placed her hand in mine, intertwining out fingers. Her skin was cold against mine, but I didn’t care. I was holding her hand and it felt amazing. I was practically blissed out. I led Serene down the street away from her building.

“I hope you don’t mind walking. The movie theatre I’m taking you to is only a few blocks away.” She squeezed my hand.

“With you, I would walk anywhere,” she told me, sincerity in those sapphire eyes.

Whatever blood had drained from my face came rushing back. This time I did look away, towards the direction we were walking.

“Which movie are we going to see?” Serene asked.

“Do you know French?” I asked, thankful the conversation had moved on.

I glanced over to her and saw that her eyes sparkled with more knowledge then I could ever hope to gain.

“Oui. On m'a appris à un très jeune âge à parler le grec, le français et l’anglais.  J’ai été dit que je suis très bon avec les langues.”

I turned my head to look at her at her in amazement. Luckily I remembered enough from my public school French classes to vaguely know what she had said.

“Greek, French, and English?” I asked in order to clarify.

“You understood?”

Her scrutinizing, but kind, gaze saw straight through me.

“Not completely,” I admitted. “Just enough to get the gist. You’ve learned Greek, French, and English since you were young and you’re very good with languages?”

“You underestimate yourself,” she said. “Translate this: J’ai attendu si longtemps. Je suis incontrôlablement heureux de vous avoir rencontré.”

“You… waited a long time. You… are very happy… you met me.” A smile lit my face.

“Basically.”

Serene’s smile was encouraging and something else. Something I couldn’t quite recognize.

“How long have you been fluent?” I asked.

“Years and years,” Serene said with a nonchalant wave, as if learning multiple languages was easy. “How long have you known French? Do you speak any other languages?”

“I’ve been studying French on and off since middle school, and no, I don’t know any other languages, except English obviously, though I wish I did. I’ve always wanted to learn an Asian language, like Japanese or Mandarin. They’re so different from English or the Latin based languages. Unfortunately, the only options the schools in my small hometown offered were French and German. And we were only allowed to choose one.”

Just as I finished talking we reached the movie theatre. I reluctantly let go of Serene’s hand to grab my wallet from my back pocket. When Serene also started to pull money out I politely stopped her. It wouldn’t have been right for her to pay for her ticket when I was the one who had asked her out. And paying for the movie tickets seemed like the least I could do when a beautiful woman like her had agreed to go out with someone like me. She slowly put her money away, giving me a small humoring smile.

With the tickets awkwardly clenched in my plastered hand, I reclaimed Serene’s hand with my good one and we walked into the movie theatre. My nerves shot up. Was she going to like the movie? It was La Reine Margot, a historical movie about Queen Margot and the St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre. I had figured it would have the romantic plot line most women I knew liked with a decent amount of fighting and subterfuge to keep me engaged. Neither of us said anything about popcorn or candy, so we bypassed concessions and walked straight in. We found seats near the back of the theatre away from the handful of other people scattered around in groups of twos and threes. We must have made it obvious that we were on a date, but I was focused on other things.

When the opening trailers ended and the movie began, I realized there was no way I was going to be able to give the movie more than a passing thought. Or at least not enough thought to understand any of the French. Serene was sitting right next to me and I hadn’t anticipated how close that actually was. We weren’t touching and she wasn’t giving off any noticeable warmth, but her physical presence was strong. Trying to keep my face angled toward the screen so I wouldn’t be looking directly at her, I glanced toward Serene.

Her head was level with my eyes while we were sitting. She may have looked like she was watching the movie, her face looking towards the screen, but her eyes were trained on me. I tried to make eye contact, but my nerves kept me from doing so, forcing my eyes back to the figures on screen without comprehending any of their movements.

She was gorgeous. More entrancing than anything I had ever seen on this planet. The sun and the moon paled in comparison to her. She was kind and compassionate and accepting. I was nothing next to her. 

I hovered between geek and goth. Between blond and brunette. Between small town and big city. I wasn’t the best graphic designer in my classes, nor the worst. Bluntly put, I was average. The only thing separating me from other people was the color of my eyes. A misty gray, technically classified as blue, but gray nonetheless. So what did this beautiful, amazing, talented girl see in me?

I fought against my nerves to steal another glance in Serene’s direction. She was still facing forward but looking at me through the corner of her eye. This time she had captured her perfectly shaped bottom lip between flawless white teeth. She was either contemplative of concerned. Unfortunately I had to look away before I could figure out which emotion was stronger.

A few tense minutes passed this way, Serene looking at me and me trying to look at her, before she did something that surprised me. She stretched a hand over to me, reached into my lap to untangle my hands. I hadn’t even realized that my hands had clenched into fists. Serene took my uninjured into hers. The shock of Serene’s hand on mine temporarily froze my nerves and allowed me to to turn to face her. She looked up at me with the sweetest smile decorating those soft lips, and raised my hand to place a kiss on the back of it.

My eyes followed the pathway of our hands then remained riveted on her lips when she lowered our hands to the arm rest between us. Serene was smiling as she turned back towards the movie screen. Her grip was firm but gentle on my hand. Bolts of heat and electricity shot up my arm from every point of contact we shared. I managed to stare at her profile for a few more seconds before I turned to look back at the screen.

We sat like that for the rest of the movie, eyes facing forward with our hands intertwined and our arms brushing every time one of us shifted. Each time my nerves began to get the better of me and I would tense up, Serene calmly caressed my hand with hers until I relaxed again. I failed to catch a single word of that movie, French or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	6. Serene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serene's response to Hunter's reaction and post-movie portion of their date.

He was rigid with tension. The movie theatre was dark and there were only a handful of other people scattered around the seats. His subconscious must have been screaming at him to run, to get away, and he must have had no idea that I was the cause of this panic. Hunter must have thought that his nerves had him tense. His body was instinctively afraid of what a predator like myself might do to him in the dark. I didn’t take offense at any of this. Hunter’s reaction was a completely normal human response to my kind. Others similar to me hunted humans to feed from them and those feedings typically ended in death. The human psyche had evolved to instinctively run from predators more powerful than itself.

Though I was not offended at Hunter’s reaction I was still devastated. I didn’t feed on humans and had not done so in more than a millennium. My personal choices meant that Hunter would always be safe with me. His subconscious must not have felt safe so I would have to show him.

Hunter’s hands had tightly clenched into fists in his lap. The tendons in his wrists were visibly taunt. So, I reached across our seats and gently untangled his hands. If it wasn’t for my strength I might not have been able to. The heat coming from his fingers seared me without leaving a visible mark. It was the best kind of burn. I found I loved touching him. I loved the feel of his skin on mine and the pleasure it brought.

On an impulse, I brought his uninjured hand to my lips to kiss. _Oh, if I could only kiss him properly,_ I thought. I immediately chastised myself and returned to clamming Hunter, not thinking of what I wanted to do with him.

My grip on his hand was firm but gentle as I rested our joined hands on the armrest between us. I turned my face back towards the movie screen and rubbed soothing circles into his hand with my thumb. After a few minutes, Hunter relaxed and I stilled my circles.

Throughout the remainder of the movie Hunter tensed up a few more times. Each time I resumed the circles until he calmed down again. I silently hoped that with some time and exposure Hunter’s subconscious would realize that I was worthy of his trust. When the movie finished and the lights in the theatre came up, I felt the last of the fear and panic wash out of Hunter’s body. He released his vice grip on my hand and stood up to stretch.

“That was weird,” Hunter said, looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

“No kidding,” I muttered under my breath to quiet for Hunter to hear. I rose from my seat slowly, terrified that Hunter would be frightened once more if I made any sudden movements.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said at a volume humans could hear. I extended my hand out to Hunter without looking at him and hoped that he would take it. 

When the warm skin of his palm blazed against mine a wave of relief flooded through me. Sitting through the movie had shown me that even though Hunter never acted as if he was afraid of me, as every other human I had known did, deep down in his fragile human mind Hunter was still scared of the predator that I was. And deep down I was scarred out of my mind that one day his subconscious might overcome him and Hunter would run from me. If that day came it would lead to my end.

The two of us left the movie theatre in silence, heading in the opposite direction of my apartment. Between the fire of his hand distracting me and my new found caution against inadvertently scaring him, I had a hard time trying to think of what to say. After a few blocks, Hunter broke the silence.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “There’s a really great Mexican place up the street.”

He looked so hopeful. Sheepish smile. Non-plastered hand in his pocket. Eye’s directed at the ground in front of him. I didn’t want to say no.

“Not particularly…” I said. “But… I am starting to become a bit thirsty.”

Hunter’s smile fell, but not as far as I had thought it might. It looked like the mention of my thirst failed to register to him as anything out of the ordinary.

“If you are hungry, I am more than happy to stop for some food.” The quiet gurgling of his stomach confirmed that he was indeed hungry.

“Alright, if you don’t mind. This place does have a decent drink menu if you don’t want any food.” He shot me a skeptical side glance, which must have been questioning why I wasn’t hungry. The movie had let out around the time when humans typically sat down for their evening meal.

“Cool. Lead the way.” I tried to give him one of my brightest smiles. Much to my relief, he returned the smile.

We walked in silence for a couple of blocks before reaching the Mexican restaurant. Hunter opened the door for me like an old-fashioned gentleman.

“Here’s a random thought,” Hunter said. “I know you said you were Greek and that your parents had immigrated from Greece, but have you gone back since?”

“Yes, I have,” I easily replied.

“Wow… That’s amazing.” We walked into the crowded, counter service restaurant. “Do you want to find us somewhere to sit?”

“Sure.”

I waded my way further into the restaurant while Hunter made his way to the counter. There was an empty table for two in a back corner that was semi-secluded from the rest of the seating area. It gave us the privacy any couple would want on a date while still being a part of the crowd. That inclusion would help sooth Hunter’s subconscious should it choose to be frightened again. 

Once the order was placed, Hunter joined me at the small table. He placed one of those white plastic triangles with large black numbers on the table.

“What was it like? In Greece, I mean,” he asked as he sat down.

I smiled. Fond memories of Greece, both past and present, flooded my mind. Greece had always been my favorite place on Earth, and now only came in second to wherever Hunter may be.

“It’s beautiful over there,” I told him. “Almost always sunny and bright. And the people are some of the friendliest I have ever met. What about you? Have you ever been abroad?”

“Oh, I only wish,” Hunter sighed. There was a wistful dreaminess in his words. “My folks never had the kind of money you need to travel and even if they did, they wouldn’t have wanted to. My parents have, and always will, be content to stay in the same small town they grew up in.”

“But not you.”

“Hell, no! I will be paying off student loans for the rest of my life because I wanted to get out of that small town, but it will be worth it. Sure, I only went a few hundred miles away from home, but New Orleans is just a step or two away from the rest of the world. Because of this amazing city, I have already been exposed to more culture than my parents ever will be. One day I will visit other countries.”

I admired his drive and determination.

“Which foreign country would you like to visit the most?” I asked.

“England. What’s with that face?”

I wasn’t able to keep my disdain to myself at the mention of that horrid country.

“I do not like the English or really any of the countries belonging to the United Kingdom.” I tried to keep as much disgust out of my voice as I could, but I doubt I came off as the neutral I was aiming for.

“Why? Is it the country or the people?” Hunter asked.

“Both.”

“Have you ever been to England?”

“Yes. A couple of time, actually.” More times than I would have liked.

“So, what don’t you like? They have such a rich history.” The way Hunter said ‘rich history’ made it easy to see that he admired and adored anything to do with the British.

“Rich history!” I scoffed. “Most of British history is filled with civil wars, exploitation, and being smug and pompous.”

“What about ‘The sun never sets on the British Empire’? During the nineteenth century Britain had the largest empire the world had seen since Alexander the Great or the Mongol and Roman empires,” Hunter said.

“An empire built on the exploitation of numerous native populations around the globe, not to mention the use of slaves who were enslaved purely because of their ethnicity and skin coloring.” I continued, cutting off whatever rebuttal Hunter had. “And none of the British people today feel that what their ancestors did was wrong, but instead, feel proud of their history!”

At that point, Hunter was trying and failing to suppress his laughter. His mirth made me realize how foolish I sounded. I began to chuckle at myself.

“I sound like an idiot, don’t I? I asked, a large and silly smile tugging on my lips.

“I wouldn’t say idiot,” Hunter said through his laughter, “I would you the word passionate instead.” He gave me the sweetest smile, his laughter dancing in his gray eyes.

And with perfect timing, a server appeared at our table with Hunter’s food and margarita’s for both of us. Hunter thanked the server and turned his attention back to me.

“Staying away from Great Britain, have you been anywhere else in Europe?” he asked.

As he eat, I told regaled him with tales of the times I had spent in France, Spain, and Greece, my favorite countries in Europe. I spun my stories so they would seem to have happened in recent years. Talking of Europe ended up serving multiple purposes. Not only did I have the chance show Hunter more of myself, but I distracted him as well. The enchanting images I described and the adventurous stories I recalled drew his focus to far away places and away from my physical self. Hunter was the only one eating, which might have been awkward otherwise. The worst he would think of me was that I had the human eating disorder anorexia, which was unlikely. The best he would think was that I was to nervous to eat anything in front of him. I helped enforce this better assumption by fiddling with my hands and looking away from him as I talked. And I didn’t want him to notice how little of the margarita I consumed. I did drink two vile sips of the fruity drink to help maintain the human facade. Without a specific ingredient, human food was hard to consume.

Hunter was keenly interested in my stories. His genuine interest brought me joy. He wanted to travel, to see what the world held. I did not think Hunter would mind the kind of life Philip and I led, never staying in one place for very long.

When Hunter finished eating, we left the restaurant and just started walking. We wandered around the French Quarter and talked about so many things. Movies, music, classes, teachers, the other three boys he lived with, Philip, and so much more. We talked about our hopes and dreams and what we thought the future might be. After a while, having to keep so much from him brought me pain. While we wandered and talked I wanted to tell Hunter everything. I wanted to tell him all of the little details of my extremely long history from start to finish. I needed to constantly remind myself that I would tell him, soon, but not then. Not at night, in the middle of what felt like an empty city. Considering how he reacted in the darkened movie theatre, Hunter was sure to react poorly and run if I revealed my true nature then. I wanted to avoid that at all costs if I could.

Eventually, we realized we had stayed out through the night as predawn light crested over the horizon. Hunter walked me back to the entrance of my apartment building and we lingered there for a while. Neither of us wanted to leave the other. But neither of us were brave enough to say anything about going upstairs.

“What are you doing on Sunday?” I asked in a rush. Fortunately, I was able to keep my rushing to a rushed human speed. Hunter may have only just barely understood me.

“Nothing in particular, but maybe… spending time with you?” He looked towards the ground and ran his uninjured hand through his hair with a sheepish blush coloring his cheeks. His eyes glanced up at me through his lowered lashes, full of hope. Tremors ran up my spine and heat would have colored my own cheeks if that were possible. I had to swallow before I spoke.

“Well, the orchestra I preform with is having a gala concert this Sunday afternoon. I was hoping that you might be willing to attend and listen to my play.” I’m positive my hope shone through my eyes. I desperately wished for him to hear me play music other than my sad and lonely song.

“I would love to hear you play,” he said. His eyes rose to meet mine directly and his expression was filled with love. He looked as if I had just handed him the would. What might he look like when I actually did just that? “What instrument will you be playing?”

“Flute,” I said. “I am first chair.” He blew out a low, impressed whistle that had me lighting up inside. Music was my pride and joy. “The concert starts at two o’clock in the afternoon at the Mahalia Jackson Theatre. I will not be able to see you before the concert, however. There is a silly rule in place that no musicians can be seen by the audience before they are to appear on stage, but Philip will be there.”

“So, I get to meet Philip.” Something similar to fear flitted across Hunter’s eyes.

“Yes, I would introduce you to him now if I knew for sure that he would be upstairs.”

We both glanced inside the building as if Philip would walk out at that exact moment as if summoned.

“That’s okay,” Hunter said nervously. “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other later.”

“You can invite a friend too,” I added. I had not planned on extending an extra invitation, but seeing Hunter try to hide how nervous he was to meet Philip made me wish to ease those nerves. Maybe a friend of his own close by would bring him comfort as he met my long time friend and companion.

“I’ll think about that. Steve may be willing to come,” Hunter said as his body began to relax.

A warning bell went off in my head at the mention of Steve. Steve was Hunter’s death goth friend who had had a glint of knowledge in his eye when I met him. His presence near Philip or myself could spell as much trouble for us as it would bring Hunter comfort. If Steve came to the concert, I hoped Philip or I would not have to do something drastic.

“So, I guess this is good-bye.” I was pulled back to Hunter.

“Not good-bye, never good-bye,” I said. I never wanted to leave Hunter’s side.

Hunter paused for a moment and drew in a deep breath.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

In all the years I had been alive, no one had ever asked me that particular question. The few human men that had attempted to force themselves on me I had easily fought off. The few men of my own kind who had shown a sexual interest in me had been too intimidated to ever try, let alone ask. I took a brief moment to gaze up into Hunter’s eyes, amazed that I had found him. He might not have known it yet, but his respect earned mine a thousand times over. I wanted to be with him and never let him go even more now.

“Yes,” I whispered.

Hunter released the breath he had been holding, his breath smelling like the enchilada he had consumed earlier and a scent that was uniquely Hunter. He caressed my cheek with the hand that was not incased in plaster to tilt my head back ever so slightly. My eyes drifted shut and my body went statue still as he lowered his lips to mine.

The first brush of his lips to mine took what little breath I had away. My heart would have stopped if it had a beat. The hear of his hand on my cheek was briefly eclipsed by the momentary scorch of his lips. I felt in danger of melting in the most sensual of ways.

The second brush of his lips was followed by the sweetest of pressures against my own. The insides of my eyes lids lit up with a dazzling light. It was if Hunter had brought the sun down to Earth. Heat blazed from our kiss down through my frozen body, threatening to thaw my icy form. I could have stayed there, lightly kissing Hunter, for the rest of time.

It was such a sweet and simple, yet powerful, kiss. My first kiss in years. I was disappointed when Hunter pulled the shortest distance away. It took all the control I had to remain still and not chase after another kiss. He had woken up a part of me that had been asleep for so very long.

“Goodnight, my Serene,” he murmured to me, his lips almost touching mine. “I shall see you again soon.”

And with those parting words, Hunter pulled away, turned, and walked away towards the nearest bus stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!
> 
> My apologies to the United Kingdom and any readers from there. Serene's views on the country and its history are her own, not mine. I personally love the UK and hope to visit again someday soon.


	7. Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve, a crow, and the concert.

Steve harbored a secret love for classical music that he thought the rest of us didn’t know about. He was drawn to the tragic lives and deaths of most classical composers. He would like a classical concert, and I would like the back up. Meeting Serene’s brother terrified me.

The sun was clearing the horizon when the bus reached my stop. Steve would be waking up soon, if he wasn’t up already. He was a contradiction. A death goth who was a morning person. As I entered the house I could smell roasting coffee wafting out of the kitchen. Hazelnut, Steve’s favorite flavor.

“Hey, man,” I said.

“Morning,” Steve said. “Or should I say _good morning._ ”

Steve hid his snicker behind a mug of coffee. He was leaning against a counter next to the freshly brewed coffee pot. I crossed over to the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice. I turned to face Steve, and his smug look, and didn’t bother with a glass.

“Shut up,” I said with a small smile of my own, which I hid behind a swig of juice.

“Did you two…?” Steve asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I swear, Char is rubbing off on you. No, I didn’t sleep with her. Never even say the inside of her building. We spent the entire night walking around the French Quarter, talking and enjoying the late night sights.”

Steve wasn’t surprised. He was most likely just trying to get a rise out of me. He was the only one who even remotely understand how much Serene meant to me. He knew I wanted things to work out with her and was just teasing me.

“Did you kiss her?” he asked.

“Yes.”

I stared into the orange juice carton with a goofy smile on my face. The memory of that kiss flooded my head. I relived the moment my good hand caressed her cheek. Her cold skin surprised me. As I leaned in, her sapphire eyes closed in anticipation. Her lips were cold, like the rest of her skin, but fit perfectly with mine. After a second, Serene’s lips started to draw heat from my own. They never reach a normal temperature, but had gained a few degrees of warmth. As my lips were pressed to hers, I once again felt a searing longing course through both of us. I wanted to push farther and deepen the kiss, but I held back. It had been almost physically painful to break the kiss and step away.

When I looked up, Steve was quietly sipping his coffee, a thoughtful expression on his face as he watched me.

“Serene is playing this Sunday, at the Mahalia Jackson Theatre,” I told him, hoping to distract him.

“Really?” Both of his eyebrows went up, impressed. Like I’d said, he was a fan of classical music.

I nodded. “Yeah, and she wants me to go. I was wondering if you would come with me.”

“Sure, man. Any particular reason why?”

“Serene said I could invite a friend, and it’s always good to have back-up when meeting the older brother.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Steve said. He raised his coffee mug towards me and I tapped it with my juice carton. Then off to bed I went.

 

********

 

Most of Saturday I spent sleeping. David wasn’t thrilled with that. Saturday’s were the days I spent extra time with my crow. I found him as a nestling my junior year of high school. I estimated that he must have fallen from a great height before he learned to fly. One of his fledgling wings had been broken. Crow parents have a tendency to be cruel and murderous when they think their offspring weak.

David spent Saturday alternating between angrily cawing at me and sulking on his perch. Early Sunday morning I woke to him sitting on my chest with his beak in my face, cawing every few minutes to get my attention. Once he realized I was finally waking up, he gave me a hard jab in the cheek with his beak. David didn’t peck hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to hurt and leave a small indent.

“I’m up, I’m up,” I said after David jabbed me a second time. I sat up to a face full of feathers as David was over balanced. He cawed again, hopping and gliding his way over to his perch. The wing he had broken as a fledging healed in such a way that he could never learn to fly. The vet I had taken him to told me that there was nothing I could do.

_Caw!_

“Calme,” I muttered in French. In high school, I thought speaking to David in French, training him in that language, would help me keep up with the language. It had varying results.

I scanned the floor of my room for something clean to wear. David took a short break from cawing to preen himself. I grabbed the seed bag I kept under my desk and filled the small dish that sat on a shelf of the bird perch. David gave me an affectionate preen through my bedhead in thanks. I may have been forgiven.

Eventually, I found a semi-clean pair of jeans and a black shirt to wear. David hopped up on my shoulder and we stumbled our way downstairs.

Fredy and Char were already up and parked on the living room couch, intently focused on the shooter game they were playing. Fredy seemed to be in the lead, which made sense since video games were his academic focus while Char studied physics and only played recreationally.

“Hey, Hunter,” Char called out. His head swiveled between me and the T.V. screen. “I heard you were out until early Saturday morning and have another rendezvous this afternoon.” He had one of _those_ smirks on his face. The kind of smirk that dripped with innuendo.

“Shut up,” I told him as I stiff armed my way through the kitchen door. I rummaged around for something to eat. I had a few hours to kill before Steve came back from where ever he had wandered off to that morning and we had to leave for Serene’s concert. Bowl of cereal in hand, crow still perched on my shoulder, I went back into the living room to watch Fredy and Char play video games.

After several comments ranging from mild to vulgar innuendos, Char got the message that my silence meant he wasn’t going to get a rise out of me. Eventually, he would come to the realization that Serene had my respect and would stop making those kinds of comments all together.

I watched them play two more rounds of the shooter game before they moved onto The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess. David hopped around the room, poking into every nook and cranny he could find. This play through was the sixth time Fredy had played Twilight Princess since it was released. By the time Steve walked through the front door, Fredy had made it to the Lakebed Temple and was fighting the temple boss, Morpheel.

“Use the claw, use the claw!”

“Bomb fish to the right!”

_Caw!_

“Swim, you’re so close!”

Needless to say, Char and I had become as worked up as Fredy, who was the one actually playing.

“Twilight Princess, nice choice,” Steve said.

I turned away from the T.V. with a start at the sound of Steve’s voice. His sudden appearance startled me. I gave him a welcome smile as I stood up.

“And that’s my cue to go shower,” I announced to the room.

With a final flourish, Fredy landed the winning blow on the boss and turned to me for the first time all day.

“You have another date?” Fredy asked. He must not have heard Char when the punk goth commented on it earlier. Fredy sounded like another date with Serene was a ridiculously impossible thing.

“Kind of. Serene is performing with her orchestra this afternoon and she asked me to go,” I told him truthfully. I picked up David from where he was rummaging through an empty chip bag.

Fredy just gave me a ‘you are an idiot’ kind of glare and went back to playing Twilight Princess. With the sad thought that I might be loosing a friend, I took David upstairs so I could shower and change.

After my shower I actually managed to find, tucked away in the back of my closet, a dress shirt, dress pants, a sports jacket, and a tie, all in black that I think I had worn once before. I resolved that someday soon, I might have to grit my teeth and expand the color of my wardrobe.

Steve was ready and waiting in the living room when I made my way back downstairs. The two of us left for the concert with only a nod of acknowledgement from Char. Fredy was determined to keep up the radio silence despite his small lapse.

“Serene’s brother is supposed to meet us with tickets when we get there.” I told Steve once we had settled into his car.

“Have you seen Serene’s brother before?” Steve asked.

“Once,” I said. “He walked into the food court with Serene after I had first seen her at Death Day.

“That’s right,” Steve said as he remembered. “So, that was her older brother? The way they were walking I was kinda afraid that you were going to have your heart broken,” he confessed.

“For a moment, I had thought the same thing. But, when I approached their table, Philip left. There’s a good chance Serene asked him for some privacy when she saw me.”

“That makes sense. I wouldn’t want to give my sister, Lila, the chance to mess things up between me and a girl.”

Despite New Orleans traffic, we made it to the theatre parking garage rather quickly. Steve pulled through the line of cars and paid for parking. He thanked the attendant, who gave him his change with a flirtatious smile. As we looked for a place to park, he turned back to me.

“So, what do you know about the older brother?”  
“His name is Philip. He’s twenty-seven, six years older than Serene. He’s studying law at Tulane. Tall, with darker skin and hair. Quiet. Respectful. Caring. Serene loves him very much. He actually came with Serene to New Orleans in order to watch after her. From what Serene was telling me he lovers her very much a really wants her to be happy. Which Serene says might, I say will, lead to over protectiveness. Philip also doesn’t have a musical bone in his body, but he loves to read.”

Steve parked the car in an empty spot in silence. I think he was overwhelmed, or amazed, or just digesting, how much I actually knew about Philip. He only murmured a hope that the orchestra played Smetana as we made our way out of the car and towards the theatre courtyard. I didn’t bother asking him what his mutter meant. I knew nothing about classical music.

Steve spotted Philip first when we entered the pavilion in front of the theatre. Or more accurately, Steve spotted Philip as Philip made his way toward us.

“Good evening, Mr. Norwood. My name is Philip Adona. My sister, Serene, has asked me to escort you this evening,” Philip said in a very formal way. Had we been living in a previous time period he might have bowed at the end of his introduction. Instead, I was glad to see, he offered his hand. I happily shook said hand as I introduced myself and Steve.

“It’s great to meet you Philip. You can call me Hunter, since Mr. Norwood is my dad. And this is Steve Spencer, one of my best friends.”

Philip had a strong grip, but his hand was as cold as ice, very similar to the temperature Serene’s hands were.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Steve said, as he also shook Philip’s hand. I half expected Steve to give some kind of reaction to Philip’s icy skin, but his face remained as pleasant as ever. Not a twitch.

“Likewise,” Philip agreed with the smallest smile I had ever seen. “If you two will follow me, I already have our tickets.”

As instructed, we followed Philip through the crowed loitering in the pavilion and into the theatre. None of us spoke as Philip led Steve and I across the lobby and up a short flight of steps into a private box. Once inside the box, Steve whistled.

“Wow, box seats,” he said. “This girl really knows how to treat her boy.”

“Shut up,” I muttered to him under my breath. I quickly glanced over to Philip hoping he hadn’t taken offense at Steve’s comment and found him smiling. I wasn’t expecting that.

“You do not have anything to worry about Hunter,” Philip said as he caught my eye. He calmly sat down in one of the seats in the second row of the box. “I am very happy that my… sister has found someone to love who will love her in return.”

His words had me rooted to the spot, gaping like an idiot. My limited experience with older brothers was of them telling me they would pound me into the dirt if I broke their baby sister’s heart and meaning it. But this just showed that Serene’s older brother was different. 

_He’s happy that I’m in love with her? But I’m not in love with her. There’s no way that’s what this is. We’ve only known each other for a week? Been on two dates? Yes, I’m attracted to her. Very attracted. And yes, I want to spend as much time with her as I can. But love? Maybe someday, but this intense feeling can’t be love yet. And she can’t love me, for the same reason I’m not in love with her. It’s too soon._

Amidst my swirling thoughts on love, I also noticed the slight pause Philip had before calling Serene his sister. Maybe it was more natural for him to use the Greek equivalent rather than English. I didn’t have time to think about it before Steve was tugging on my arm to pull me into a seat in the front row of the box.

As we sat the lights in the theatre flickered and I heard a chime coming from the lobby. Both signaled to the guests that it was time to take their seats. After a few minutes, when the doors from the lobby into the audience were closed and a generic ‘please silence your cell phones’ message played, the orchestra members filed out onto the stage.

I spotted Serene the second she was visible. She looked resplendent with her hair pulled back from her face, lightly curling around her slender neck. The black dress she wore tastefully hugged her curves and shimmered like the night sky out in the boonies. She held her flute as if it was the most natural of extensions from her body, as if the instrument had always existed in her hand. Her sapphire eyes looked up and caught mine as he took her place at what I assumed was the head of the flute section. Serene looked as if that stage was one of her most favorite places in the world. She radiated a calm and peaceful happiness. However, her eyes expressed to me that she would rather be at my side then down on that stage. The intensity of her emotion threatened to overwhelm me. I couldn’t wait to hear her play.

The concert master entered last. They bowed to the audience and then directed their attention to tuning the orchestra. Then the conductor entered, shook hands with the concert master, bowed to polite applause, and began the first piece of act one. I only knew the titles of each of these people because Steve felt compelled to whisper their job descriptions in my ear. I was simultaneously thankful and annoyed.

The music was beautiful. It dipped and swelled, and conveyed a million emotions. Every os often I was able to pick out the sound of flutes playing high above the rest of the ensemble. Being there, listening, made me want to learn more about music just so I could be closer to Serene. I knew so little about what they were playing and how the individuals worked together to create such beauty.

For act one, I let the music lift me up and down, like the currents of the ocean, rising with the swell one moment only to plummet under the enormous power of the next wave. I was almost overwhelmed by the passion and emotion that poured out of the orchestra. Listening, I gained a better understanding of how deep Serene’s feelings must have been behind her love of music.

During the fifteen minute intermission I sat and half listened to Steve talk about what he did and didn’t like about the first act. Philip remained silent. The part of me that wasn’t paying attention to Steve longed to sneak backstage to find and tell Serene how beautiful and talented she was. But before I could act on this impulse that would most likely have gotten me escorted from the property, the lights flickered, the bell chimed, and the musicians came back onstage for act two.

At the end of the first piece in act two, I happen to glance back at Philip and saw what must have been a real smile. When he had greeted Steve and I, he was smiling, but that smile hadn’t quite reached his eyes. This smile shone out like a beacon, filled with pride and love.

“Thank you,” the conductor said as he turned to face the applauding audience. “The next piece needs a little introduction. It is a tradition for the orchestra to occasionally showcase the talents of one of our oldest members and one of our newest members. Tonight we showcase Mr. Jacob Bonnay on the grand piano, and Miss. Serene Adona on the flute. Together they will preform Kattenburg’s Sonata for Flute and Piano.”

My eyes widened as I watched Serene leave her seat in the flute section and walk across the stage to join the older gentleman sitting at the grand piano. Philip must have known Serene was going to play a duet. If I had actually read the program I had been clutching since the beginning of act one I would have known too. 

Serene briefly met my stare across the audience, with a mischievous sparkle in her eye, before focusing her attention on the conductor.

I didn’t know much about music, especially what the difference was between the separate kinds of pieces, but listening to her, actually being able to distinguish between her and the piano, took my breath away. She was spectacular. Every note she played she put her whole being into the playing.

All of a sudden, I could feel her soul. Feel it in a way that was very similar to when I had heard Serene play at the Death Day Club. The connection I felt now wasn’t nearly as strong as the connection I had felt at the club, but I think that is because Serene’s focus was on the conductor and not on me. But I felt how perfectly the piece matched her. It was gentle and soft and inquisitive, curious about how the world continued to move forward even after so much time.

The rest of the audience was mesmerized. I don’t think a single person took a breath, they were so afraid to break the spell she was weaving. Even the rest of the orchestra was enchanted. None of them could move their eyes away. Serene was onstage doing exactly what she wanted to do, creating music. The only reason I could fathom as to why the conductor and the pianist seemed to be immune to the spell she wove was because they had heard her play often enough in rehearsals that they were able to concentrated past the enchantment.

On and on her music flowed capturing everyone’s undivided attention, until at last the final high note of the flute and low note of the piano faded into silence releasing the spell. The audience burst into applause with a standing ovation. I thought Steve would fall out of the box in his excitement. It took me a few seconds to realized that the piece had ended. I was in utter awe as I stood up and joined in the applause. Serene was brilliant. Far better than any of the other musicians up on that stage. Everyone knew it and if they didn’t they were fools.

As Serene took her seat, and began to play with the rest of the orchestra, all I could look at was her. Somehow, we remained connected through the remainder of the performance. The connection was faint, but it was there. And as one piece blurred into the next the connection slowly filled with an emotion I could only call love.

I wanted to be near her. I needed to be near her. Through this link, I could feel that she had something extremely important to tell me. The closer the end of the concert came, the more nervous she became. That nervous emotion started to scare me as it grew. Or maybe scared isn’t the right word. Worried me? What did Serene have to tell me that was causing her such distress? Before, when we had connected through music at the Death Day Club, the emotions I had felt were more of an amplification of the emotions she portrayed through her song. This time, through this second connection, the emotions I felt contrasted with the soothing classical music I could hear, which confused me even more.

With the final notes of the concert, the connection between Serene and I faded away. My nervous anticipation rose as she bowed with the orchestra and left the stage. It was going to take her a couple of moments to put her flute away safely and find her way up to the box, but I would wait. No matter how nervous I now was, no matter what it was that she wanted to tell me, I wanted to see her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being patient. I recently moved from California to Minnesota, so things have been a bit hectic recently.
> 
> I apologize for any inconsistencies, or anything out of the norm with the orchestra concert. It has been a while since I have attended an orchestra concert myself. I also needed a way for Serene and Hunter to connect through music again, and at her performance was the perfect opportunity.


	8. Serene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Music and true natures

It happened again. While I played the duet with Jacob, I felt our connection spring to life. I did not dare to look in Hunter’s direction, knowing that if I looked into his eyes I would have been pulled in and lost myself so completely to the swell of emotion I was feeling that I would have cried. Crying in front of a thousand people was something I could never do. I feared exposure to much.

When the duet ended and I took my bow, then I allowed myself to look up at Hunter. The bright and pale colored energies that made up Hunter and I were intertwining and weaving themselves together even more tightly between us then they had before. It was proof in my mind that the boy with mist gray eyes and I were meant to be together. The gods had willed it so.

Hunter’s eyes sparkled like morning sunlight pouring through a gentle mist after rain.

Sitting there, playing through the last few pieces of the concert, I made a decision. I was going to tell Hunter my deepest secret. My nerves skyrocketed. I had revealed my true nature to other humans before, but never had I had so much depending on what one specific human’s reaction. That was the real reason as to why I had told Hunter he could bring along a friend. At the time I hadn’t settled on when I wanted to tell Hunter. But I knew that after the concert might prove to be a good time. The two of us hadn’t known each other for a very long time, but the reappearance of our connection through my music convinced me that the time was right. Hopefully, if Hunter did not react well, Steve would be there for him when he ran.

And that idea was one that scared me the most. The thought that Hunter would listen to me and then run and never wish to see me again. If that happened, if Hunter ran, my existence would be over.

Hunter could most likely feel all of my worry through our connection. There was no way he could escape it. I was able to feel his wonder and amazement towards my performance and his confusion over my distress and worry.

With the last notes of the last piece of the concert, the connection between Hunter and I faded. _Was it the music that brought forth this binding tie between us? Was there something about Hunter that my music brought forth?_ My gift allowed me to see the life energies of the world around me and manipulate those energies to move objects through space. I could not weave together different energies without physically combining the molecules of objects.

My thoughts jumbled as I headed backstage to store my flute in its case in a dressing room locker. It was easy enough to come back latter to retrieve it.

I went straight through the lobby and all of the mingling patrons up to the box Hunter, Steve, and Philip had watched the concert from. I knocked on the door into the box before I entered. Philip was the closest to the door. He gave me a small encouraging smile, clearly seeing my intentions in my eyes. Before stepping out of the box, Philip squeezed my hand and whispered, “Be brave,” to low and fast for human ears to hear.

Steve was next. He approached with a warm greeting and congratulations on a performance well played. Thanks to years of dealing with humans and focusing on multiple things in a single moment I was able to thank Steve for his praise while the majority of my attention focused on Hunter.

Hunter looked at ease, in his nice dress shirt and tie, which were both black. But I could see taught muscles in his neck that spoke of tension with a hint of fear.

I dimly noticed Steve leave and close the door to the box leaving Hunter and I alone.

“Hi,” he said as he took a step towards me, a flirtatious smile lighting his face.

“Hello,” I said. I took a step of my own closer to him. My smile was wide, but my worry must have shown. I tried to search for the right words to help me explain.

“That was a brilliant performance.” Hunter took another step.

“You think so?” I took another step.

“Absolutely.” Step. “You were the most beautiful being on that stage.” A second step.

“Thank you.”

I looked down to get away from those piercing gray eyes, and took the final step. My step put us mere inches away from each other, so close to touching, but not making any contact. I could feel the heat roll off of Hunter’s body in waves, trying to burn through my skin. It was almost surprising that my skin did not flush from how close we were.

I easily tracked the movement of Hunter’s uninjured hand, pleased when his fingers brushed my chin to tilt my head so he could gently touch his lips to mine. The kiss was as sweet as the first kiss we had shared outside my apartment complex. Hunter’s hand slowly brushed my skin until he cupped my cheek and tilted my head further back to deepen the kiss. The caress of his lightly callused, but scorching fingers sent a shiver down my spine. I brought my hand up to cradle his warm fingers against my cheek. The cold shock of my skin on the back of his hand surprised Hunter and caused him to brake the kiss. Rather than pull away, Hunter pressed his forehead to mine, leaning in closer if that was even possible.

“It’s going to take me a while before I’m not surprised by how cold you are,” Hunter confessed.

Hunter’s words brought the sting of impending tears to my eyes. In that moment, I was the unnatural one, as cold and hard as unforgiving stone. But to me, humans were the ones who were different, hot and soft and fragile. When he found out, what was he going to say?

I took a reluctant step back and regrettably moved his fingers from my face so our intertwined hands hung between us.

“Hunter, I have something I have to tell you.” I maneuvered us until we were sitting in to of the box’s seats, sitting at angles so we could face one another. “Something very important.”

“I know,” Hunter said. He gently squeezed my hand and gave me an encouraging smile.

I almost did not tell him. How was I supposed to tell him? I could hardly think of where to start. The deep, cleansing breath I took only marginally helped since I had no actual need to breath. I needed to tell him. I truly needed to tell him. Looking down at our hands and then back up into Hunter’s eyes, I made the impulsive decision to be blunt.

“Hunter, I’m not human.”

He chuckled, most likely assuming I was trying to be funny.

“I know your different from anyone I’ve ever met,” he said, laughter in his voice. “But of course you’re human.”

“No, Hunter. I’m not human, and this is going to sound like a lie, but it is true. I am not human, because I am a vampire.”

As soon as I mentioned ‘vampire’ Hunter tensed. Almost every muscle in his body strung tight like a piano string. If any amount of human strength had been able to hurt me, Hunter would have broken all of the fingers in the hand I still had laced with his from how hard his fingers tightened.

“No you’re not,” Hunter said in a stunned whisper. “Vampires aren’t real.”

He was going into denial, falling back onto hundreds of years of human survival instincts, ignoring what they had a hard time processing, and I could not afford to let him do that.

“Yes they are real and yes I am one,” I said in a firm but gentle tone, my voice imperceptibly wavering. I held his gaze so he would know, without a doubt, I was telling him the absolute truth. “I lied by omission when I let you assume that I was near the same age as you. My skin is cold to the touch and as pale as death because my blood no longer moves through my veins. I did not eat at that Mexican restaurant we went to on our last date because the food that humans prepare does not sustain me.” I paused, hoping I had not given Hunter to much to process at once.

Hunter had that glazed look in his misty eyes that comes from shock. I never wanted to frighten him, especially in this moment, so I kept my movements to a slow human speed. I moved the hand Hunter was not clutching up to gently touch his cheek. Hunter flinched. It was hard to hide how much that small, instinctual movement hurt. I closed my eyes and lowered my hand.

“Sorry,” he said quieter than a whisper.

My eyes popped back open in surprise. No human in my acquaintance had ever apologized for something so instinctual before. Deep down, maybe Hunter cared for me as much as I cared for him. Maybe he wished to never hurt me the way I never wanted to hurt him. As he met my eyes again a degree or two of tension left his body.

“It’s okay,” I said. “The instinct to move away is a natural human reaction. Your subconscious wants to preserve itself so your body shies away from anything that is to hot, to cold, or to different from you.”

My voice faded off into silence. I no longer had any idea of what to say to Hunter. He was still processing all that I had told him. Overwhelming him with more information he did not want would have only worked against me. So I watched him in silence, his hand still clenched around my own. After a few moments of this he spoke up.

“How do I know you’re telling me the truth? What kind of proof can you even give me?”

My heart fractured. His tone of voice was indifferent, bordering on accusatory. How could he have not seen in my eyes that every word I said was true? He must not have been able to see that any lies, any pretense, from before were only voiced to protect my kind. But he did deserve proof. Seeing helps any mind, human or vampire, believe in the world in front of them. And even after knowing each other for such a short time, the two of us had become entwined together. I had seen this twinning as I played. That connection told me that Hunter deserved to see. I had one classically vampire feature that would be fairly easy to show.

“Watch carefully,” I said, our gazes still locked on each other. “I can only do this so slowly.”

With effort to decrease the speed at which they descended, I pushed my fang-like incisors into my mouth. Any vampire would have been able to easily keep track of their progress. But a human might not have been able to see my fangs until they were fully extended no matter how slow I could descend them.

Hunter’s eyes widened and he quickly released my hand to lean back until he had fallen out of his seat. The fracture that had torn through my heart at his tone cracked further. His pulse accelerated as he landed on the floor. No matter how deeply his reaction hurt me, I tried to keep my pain out of my expression. 

“Are… are those real?” Hunter asked. His voice shook and betrayed the fear he was beginning to feel.

I nodded.

“Can you speak…” Hunter tried to say before his voice failed him.

“Around my phangs?” I finished for him. “Yeth. It ith difficult though.”

I allowed my fangs to retract back into the roof of my mouth. It took a significant amount of effort and concentration to expose my fangs when I was not thirsty.

Hunter moved from the floor and back into the theatre seat. He couldn’t take his eyes off of my mouth where my fangs had been showing. His face was blank. His body was afraid, terrified of the predator I am, but his heart seemed to be fighting back with the deep feelings he had for the woman I had shown him. These extreme emotions canceled out and left his expression unreadable.

“Hunter,” I said, so quietly a human might not have heard. I was so scared. “Say something, please.”

His blank expression collapsed into confusion and stress as he dropped his head into his hands. I flinched at the sound of bone connecting with plaster. Hunter’s muttered swear was muffled by his hands.

“What do you want me to say?” he asked, with frustration and confusion.

“Anything.” My desperation bled into my voice. “Tell me you do not care. Tell me I am a lier, because I know I am. I have been for centuries.” Hunter drew in a sharp breath. My potential age must not have even crossed his mind. “And I will continue to lie because it is necessary for me to do so to blend into human society. Tell me you hate me.”

I paused. I may not need to breath for the oxygen, but now I needed to in order to hold back the sobs fighting their way up my chest. Despite my efforts, tears began to stream from my eyes.

“You can say anything Hunter, I only ask that you say something.”

He sat there and looked down.

“Proof,” he said. “I need more proof.”

“Of course,” I said with another deep breath. “All you have to do is look up.”

I held statue still to stop the spasming sobs that threatened to rip my chest apart as Hunter slowly raised his gaze from the floor to my face. His beautiful, stunning gray eyes locked with mine and in them I could see what he saw. Unnaturally bright sapphire irises with bloodshot sclera and scarlet red blood spilling down my cheeks. I did not, could not, imagine what he was thinking in that moment. I looked like a monster from old world fairytales about why children should not venture into the forest.

Hunter’s mist gray eyes roamed over my face for a few brief seconds that stretched into eternity. I could not identify the emotion I saw in those eyes. I was terrified.

Without another word, the human I had fallen in love with stood up and left. It did not even cross my mind to stop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> And because I had to look it up, sclera is the proper term for the white of the eye.


	9. Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunter absorbs Serene's revelation.

Serene was a vampire.

 

A vampire with fangs and blood for tears.

 

But vampires weren’t real. They couldn’t be. They were creatures of myth and legend. Horror stories used to frighten people and to help explain the world before science became prevalent.

 

Seeing those bright scarlet tears, knowing I was the reason she cried, was the last thing I was able to handle that night at the concert. I didn’t want to leave the woman I loved, sitting in that theatre box crying, but there was no way I could have stayed and remained sane. Serene knew that. She had to have known that. She hadn’t tried to stop me from walking away. There was little doubt in my mind that she could have stopped me if she had wanted to.

I passed Philip in the hall as I headed to the lobby. He moved quickly to the box once I’d passed. _Good, someone will be there to comfort her._  

Steve looked confused as I approached him.

“Man, Hunter, are you alright?” he asked, worried.

I wasn’t able to give him a positive answer so I just walked past him.

“Let’s just go,” I said over my shoulder when Steve didn’t immediately follow.

I set a quick pace through the half filled lobby and across the pavilion to the parking garage. I kept seeing Serene’s face, hearing her words, and I hoped the distance of Steve’s car, the distance I would gain by going home, would help me to process all that had just happened.

Steve must have started the car and pulled out of the garage while I my thoughts were so consumed with Serene. The late night traffic in New Orleans always sucks so the drive home was slow going. As any good best friend would do, Steve sat in silence and patiently waited for me to speak. He knew that pushing me wasn’t going to get him details any sooner than if he was patient. This was one reason why I loved the death goth like a brother.

Halfway home I finally spoke.

“Serene told me she’s a vampire.” 

We were sitting at an extremely long traffic light waiting for some partying old woman to cross the street. The red light reminded me of Serene’s tears causing my heart to ache.

“Really?” Steve asked, neutrally curious.

“Yeah, but there’s no way that can be true.”

The images of her fangs and her tears flashed through my head in a never ending cycle, screaming at me to be believed.

“Why not?” Steve asked.

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye as the traffic light changed from red to green. I stared at him in disbelief and shock.

“Because vampires are fictional characters created to scare people. Nothing out there about them is real. It’s all fiction.”

“Of course everything available to the public is fiction,” Steve said in agreement, or I at least thought he was agreeing with me. “But that doesn’t mean vampires aren’t real. It just shows that they are really good at guiding humans down the wrong track.”

In that moment I honestly thought that my best friend was insane.

“Are you actually saying you think what she said is true?” I asked, my eyes wide.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Steve said, excitedly. “What kind of proof did she give you?” Steve’s straight mouth curved up into a slight smile and his eyes widened in excitement.

I turned away from Steve to stare straight ahead without seeing the road. A small part of me hoped that we would swerve into oncoming traffic so I wouldn’t have to answer his question and admit that what I had seen was real. This had to be one of the most bizarre conversation I had with Steve. It was almost too much after everything Serene had told me.

Another couple of blocks passed by outside and I took a deep breath.

“She showed me her fangs and cried tears of blood.”

Steve whistled a low note. “Fangs,” he muttered. “They really are different.

I turned to Steve, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“What do you mean different?” I asked. 

I had only just learned of the existence of vampires and was trying to deny that fact, let alone acknowledge that there were more than one kind of vampire.

“Well, from my experience there are two variations of vampire,” Steve said. “There is Serene and Philip, and then there is every other vampire in the world.”

“Wait, wait. Philip?” My brain felt like it might explode. “I forgot about him. They’re siblings so, of course he’s one too.”

Maybe if I stayed away from the word ‘vampire’ all of this would prove to be a dream come morning.

“I don’t know why Serene and Philip are different.” Steve said, continuing on as if I hadn’t interrupted him. “I just know that they are. I didn’t have time to ask for any particulars.”

“You asked?!” I exclaimed.

Steve was never going to stop surprising me. He embraced unpredictability.

“Yeah,” he said, completely chill, as if asking someone if they were an undead monster was an everyday kind of question. “While you were with Serene, I was out in the hall with Philip. I didn’t get much out of him, just a confirmation that they’re vampires and there are two kinds. Philip is a one word kind of guy.”

“Oh.”

My brain had had enough. It needed to process the new information it had before continuing on. I let the roar of the cars around us grow as everything both Steve and Serene had said that night began to sink in. Two kinds of vampires. 

Then something occurred to me.

“Steve, you said confirmation. Did you already know about…?” I asked.

Steve went red under his white makeup.

“Yes, well… I mean… I suspected,” he confessed.

“Since when?”

“Which one? Suspected that Serene and Philip were vampires or that vampires in general existed?”

“Since when did you suspect Serene and Philip, I guess?” I asked.

“Since your first date with her at Death Day. When I kissed her knuckles, her skin was cold.” Steve said.

“So. She has a…”

I trailed off as my newly acquired knowledge layered on top of my memories, giving them new meaning.

“Circulation problems,” Steve said to finish my sentence. “I would believe that if she wasn’t approximately the same temperature as other vampires. Humans run a nice ninety-six point eight degrees Fahrenheit. Vampires run about seventy or so, I think. They don’t have any need for independent body heat.”

I put my head in my hands for the second time that night, though I made sure that I didn’t hit my head with my cast. Small, little things started to make sense when the word ‘vampire’ was added into the equation. 

The haunting music Serene had played at the Death Day Club. The way she seemed to know which car was Steve’s without being told as she had helped out with drunk Fredy and Char. How she had suddenly disappeared shortly after we had said goodnight in the parking lot. The graduate level classes she was taking when she looked like she was the same age as me, if not younger. How she politely refused to eat and then barely touched her drink after claiming to be thirsty at the Mexican restaurant. Her more than graceful movements. Her extremely pale skin. How she lived in one of the most expensive apartment buildings in New Orleans.

There were so many little details that were more easily explained by the fact that Serene was a vampire. Even the way I had tensed up during the movie on our second date had a more plausible explanation. My subconscious had started to panic being in a dark space with a predator. It had been a natural reaction.

“Why didn’t you say something before now? I asked Steve, my voice muffled by my hands.

“It wasn’t my secret to tell.”

Steve made the turn onto our street and pulled into our driveway, but made no move to get out of the car.

“It was-is Serene’s secret,” he said. “If the truth had come from me, or from Philip, or anyone else, how you look at Serene, your feelings for her, would have been more skewed then they already are now.” Steve went silent for a minute to let that sink into my brain. “And from my observations over the years, humans aren’t supposed to know the truth about vampires. Those who find out… they disappear and end up dead on the outskirts of town.”

“So then, why did she tell me if it’s so dangerous for humans?” I asked no one in particular. Steve still answered.

“Serene loves you. Philip wasn’t lying when he said that, anyone with eyes can see how much you two care of each other.”

I turned my head in my hands so I could stare blankly at him.

“That being said,” Steve continued. “She’s a unique kind of vampire, and I think it’s a good kind of unique. You met her outside her building at three in the afternoon, right?”

“Yea…” I said. I had no idea what direction Steve was thinking in.

“Okay. You obviously didn’t notice anything that would have exposed her as a vampire at that point. Because she can go out in the sun without being exposed, I believe that she’s more powerful than the majority of vampires.”

I just continued to stare at my best friend.

“Steve, where are you going with this?” I asked. He sighed.

“I’m ninety percent positive I’ve met other vampires and so have you,” he said.

“No, I haven’t,” I said. “I would have know if I had… right?”

“Not necessarily. Vampires are very good at blending in and humans tend to shy away from them on instinct.”

“And you didn’t?” I asked incredulously.

“I’m a death goth, Hunter. Discovering that vampires were real was like Christmas, Chinese New Year, and my birthday all rolled into one event. Even though vampires are technically dead because they have no pulse, that doesn’t mean they actually are because they feed on life itself.” 

Steve’s face lit up in awe as he went on. I don’t think I could have stoped him now if I had wanted to. 

“What I started to notice was that the few people I could identify as vampires, those who frequent Death Day, never come out during the day. We’ve consistently bumped into other goths we’ve met at the club, during the day. I swear since starting at Tulane, I have run into just about everyone I have talked to at Death Day, except those I can identify as vampires. So, since Serene and Philip can come out during the day, she’s got to have some sort of ability that the others don’t have.”

“What does that have to do with me, and Serene revealing to me that she’s a… vampire?” I asked. 

Saying ‘vampire’ was hard, but not impossible. What seemed to be impossible was following Steve’s train of thought with my brain so over taxed.

Steve sighed again.

“It means,” he said, clearly becoming frustrated with me. He rarely enjoyed breaking anything down into layman’s terms. “That she can protect you. To have a truly healthy relationship like you deserve, she had to tell you what she is. But if the other vampires find out that you know what they are, Serene has enough power to protect you.”

_None of this is going to be simple,_ I realized.

“Alright,” I said, opening the car door and finally getting out. “I’m going to bed. I need to lay down before my head explodes.” The mental exhaustion was threatening to overwhelm me.

The two of us walked up the driveway to the porch. I stoped Steve before he could open the front door.

“Thanks, man,” I said with a small, strained smile.

“Anytime,” he said with a brighter smile of his own.

Steve was the best friend any guy could ask for.

 

********

 

The night following the concert I slept fitfully. I was exhausted, but dreams of Serene and vampires kept me from falling into a restful sleep. My mind produced horrific images of large fangs and oceans of blood. Scenes of nighttime destruction and chaos where shadowy creatures attacked without mercy.

But in the early morning my dreams shifted. The nightmares faded away to reveal calm skies and the deepest pair of sapphire eyes. Eyes that were so filled with love it was overwhelming.

I woke up to a dark sky and David nestled into my side. The crow must have joined me thinking to calm my dreams. This wasn’t the first time he had come to my emotional aide. I stroked his feathers in thanks. He just settled deeper into my side.

Those dream eyes belonged to Serene without a doubt.

I laid in bed and thought about everything I had learned after the concert. Serene was a vampire, and so was her brother Philip. So many more little things about them made sense. The silent grace and confidence. The temperature of her skin.

My mind wandered as I stared at the uneven ceiling above my bed and stroked my crow.

Her age. How old could Serene possibly be? I vaguely remembered the word centuries being said, which would make her a heck of a lot older than me. She certainly didn’t look like she was centuries old. If I had to guess from her appearance, I would say she was twenty-one at most, and that was pushing it. Except for her eyes. Her eyes saw the world for what it was, and very rarely could adults my age do that.

Her fangs. I’d watched her carnies appear out of nowhere, elongating into the stereotypical vampire fangs. Even from a distance it was easy to imagine the needle sharp points piercing into skin like a knife slicing through warm butter.  My fingers stopped stroking David’s feathers as my breathing and heart rate quickened. I was panicking. Logically, I knew that Serene didn’t want to hurt me. She loved me. I had glimpsed the emotion through that strange connection we had and two people had confirmed so. If my dreams were anything to go by, I had little doubt that she loved me. My panic was only a subconscious human response to a superior predator. If legends were to be believed humans were the main prey of vampires and evolution had taught humans to run from things that could kill us. Flight was one of the ways we had survived for so long as a species.

But I wasn’t afraid of Serene. I wasn’t afraid of the person she was, my heart wouldn’t let me be afraid. She was kind and gentle. I couldn’t believe that she would ever want to deliberately hurt someone. Slowly, my breathing and heart rate returned to normal. I resumed my feather stroking much to David’s pleasure.

Her tears. For all I knew she could have quickly painted them on her face while my head was in my hands. The legends also claimed that vampires were wickedly fast. But paint didn’t explain how her eyes were bloodshot. I had looked up straight into her sapphire orbs before I rushed out. They had been my last life line, my last hope that Serene was pulling a massive prank, but all I had seen was her honesty. Her beautiful eyes had been white and sapphire until the red had been introduced with her tears. A sapphire so blue, so impossibly bright, and a red so scarlet it could only be blood. But Serene had said that her blood didn’t circulate, not the way human blood did, and so didn’t absorb oxygen. So where had the scarlet red color come from?

_Blood is bright red when it is filled with oxygen, which saturate’s the air we breath._ Steve’s bio-chem lecture voice filled my head. _Rather than absorb the oxygen from her lungs, since a vampire’s blood doesn’t circulate, the blood must have absorbed the oxygen directly from the air once her tears had left her eyes._ Imaginary Steve made sense.

I closed my eyes to block out the ceiling and tried to imagine how Serene would have looked with clear, translucent, human tears instead of the bloody scarlet vampire tears. It pained me to think of her crying, to think of her in pain, but I had to try. The image my artistic mind supplied surprised me. Serene looked like any other girl when they silently cried. Tragic, but beautiful.

“Oh, David,” I moaned.

At the sound of his name, David lifted his head to look at me. He immediately saw how upset and conflicted I was, because he wiggled out of my side and hopped up the bed to perch next to my head in order to comfort preen my hair with his beak.

“David, how can any of this be real? How do I know she’s telling the absolute truth?”

Then I remembered the first time I had really seen Serene. She had played her tragic and heart breaking song on her lyre. I had looked into her eyes and she into mine. That look revealed each of our souls. At the time I had thought that her soul must have been thousands of years old. She possessed a soul shaped by events tragic and joyous and to many to even contemplate counting. Her sapphire eyes had been the most wonderful sight I had ever seen.

I realized that I had no reason to doubt Serene. The truth I had seen in her eyes back at the Death Day Club was the same truth she spoke with after the concert. It was that sincere honesty that helped me fall in love with her in the first place.

I needed more. The explanation Serene had given me after the concert was only the tip of the ice berg. I was not cool with the fact that Steve knew more about vampires than I did. He wasn’t the one dating one.

I sat up in bed quickly, and scared David. He jumped away from my towards a corner of the bed and voiced his protest with a loud _CAW._

_I love Serene._  

I hadn’t realized that before. It was so simple. Philip had been right. Yes, there was the complicated fact that she was a vampire, but when it came down to it I still wanted to be with her. I wanted to make her happy. And the last time I had seen her I had made her cry.

_CAW!_

The light in my room began to slowly shift from the cool blues of nighttime street lights to the warm pinks and reds of pre-dawn. The change surprised me.

_CAW!_

I glanced at the clock on my bedside table and decided that if I ran I would be able to catch the first bus on the route that stopped near Serene’s apartment.

_CAW!_

It was a miracle I was able to find any clean clothes among the mess that was my room. I really need to do laundry.

_CAW!_

As I hunted for my shoes, there was a knock on my bedroom door. I opened it without thinking about, or even looking at, who was on the other side. I was consumed by the hunt for the illusive shoes.

_CAW!_

“Would you please get that bird to shut up?” said a tired, annoyed voice.

I bolted up to standing, extremely surprised to find Fredy slouching in my doorway. He had clearly just stumbled from his bed to my door since he was wearing a rumpled set of pajamas and rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Even one of his liberty spikes was bent at the tip.

_CAW!_

“David, Calme,” I said to the crow.

David gave a final _Caw_ from the bed before hopping off the bed to glide across the room to sulk on his perch.

Fredy and I just stared at each other, sizing the other up. Fredy was the first to break the silence.

“Why are you up so early?” he asked.

“I’m going over to Serene’s.”

I didn’t want to lie to him, but I wasn’t going to tell Fredy the entire truth since he’d been such a shit friend recently.

“What is it with that vamp?” Fredy said as if he was accusing her of a crime.

I flinched. The derogatory term had a vein of truth to it now, and Fredy had no clue.

“It’s like she’s taken over your life” Fredy said.

“I love her, Fredy. And she needs me.”

“Whatever.”

Fredy rolled his eyes and walked back to his room down the hall. I stared after him then went back to searching for my shoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	10. Serene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The other side of the concert aftermath.

It took Philip three seconds to enter the theatre box once Hunter had left, and only because the need to move at human speed delayed him. Philip was there, offering a handkerchief, like he had been for hundreds of years.

“Thank you,” I somehow said through my sobs.

I took Philip’s handkerchief and scrubbed away as many of my tears as I could. Dried blood could be difficult to remove.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Philip asked me gently in Ancient Greek.

Hearing my original language helped calm my mind.

“Not yet,” I replied, keeping to the Ancient Greek. “First we need to leave the theatre without anyone seeing my face. I really do not want to explain my bloodshot eyes.”

“Shall we run then?” Philip asked.

With a vampires grace, he stood up and extended his hand to help me rise, like a gentleman. Though I did not need the help, I gladly accepted the assistance. I craved the emotional support the gesture gave, and indulging Philip in his small services pleased him to no end. If I could not be happy in that moment, maybe a small part of him could be for both of us.

“Yes, we run. One of us can come back letter for my flute,” I said.

Running was always one of the only things I loved about being a vampire. The wind in my hair, dodging around humans who seemed to be standing still. No one noticed Philip and I as we ran out of the theatre. A slight breeze was the only evidence of our passing.

We only ran as far as Philip’s car in the theatre’s parking lot. The chance of us being spotted by another vampire was too high to run from the theatre to our apartment, especially since many vampires frequented the French Quarter.

The drive gave me the chance to remove any blood I had missed on my face. Philip also informed me that Hunter’s best friend Steve knew the basics of what we were. 

I wasn’t able to begin relating all that had transpired between Hunter and myself to Philip until the two of us were in the elevator on the way up to our apartment. I kept my voice low, quick, and in Ancient Greek to prevent human security measures from picking up my story. By the end of my tale I was fighting back a new wave of tears as my heart continued to shatter. Philip extended a comforting hand across the space between us. I didn’t need words to hear Philip’s reassurance. Hunter was in shock. If I was patient, if I allowed Hunter the time he needed to process and adjust to the knowledge that I was a vampire, then things would turn out for the better. I had to hope they would.

I immediately changed out of my performance dress and into one of my most comforting ensembles, a simple white dress cut into a classical Greek style. I took a seat at my piano and played Beethoven’s piano sonata’s all night long. I loved Beethoven’s music for its beautiful tragedy. Beethoven’s tragedy helped calm me as I fought to keep my own tragic emotions at bay.

Philip, dressed in a simple tunic and trousers, brought the case files and reports he needed to analyze for his studies out into the main room. His continued concern had him watching over me as I played. Philip was my ever watchful caretaker and companion.

 

********

 

Shortly after dawn, the elevator that opened out onto the floor our apartment was on dinged. I softened my playing by a fraction, but did not stop. Philip kept his eyes on his most recent report.

We had one neighbor we shared the floor with and his door was in between our door and the elevator. When he was in town, the trust fund child would stay out to until the earliest hours of the day. I did not think that he was currently in town, but I had been so focused on Hunter in recent days that I could not recall if the trust fund child had arrived recently or not. I listened for the footsteps of whoever had come out of the elevator, but the multiple layers of industrial strength soundproofing Philip and I had in the apartment walls was muffling the footsteps even for vampiric hearing.

Even muffled though, I could hear those footsteps pass by our neighbors door and stop in front of the door to Philip and I’s apartment. A couple seconds passed before a knock as loud as a gunshot to mine and Philip’s sensitive ears rang through the door. I stopped playing and Philip set down his papers.

“I wonder who that could be,” Philip said.

My companion stood up and walked slowly, though not as slow as a human, to our front entry way.

I was both curious and annoyed. Who could have made their way all the way up to our door? The building had some of the highest priorities on privacy and security in the whole city. Guests needed to be previously vetted by building security, sign in with the doorman and his assistants, belongings searched, and then escorted up in the elevator because there was a passcode you needed in order for the elevator to even reach our floor. There was a possibility that the knock came from one of trust fund child’s friends wondering where he was. Philip and I had never added names to our list of approved guests. There were a small number of vampires who might visit if they were passing through Louisiana, but I knew for a fact that they were thousands of miles away.

No matter who was there, I wanted them to leave as soon as possible. I was in no frame of mind to interact with anyone. Philip was always excluded from these feelings and similar ones. We had been together for so long, his presence was just an extension of my own self.

Then I caught a hint of the knockers sent. It was so faint, the scent that wafted through the small cracks around the front door. Just the barest whisper of a taste. But I was sensitive enough to catch the notes of sweat, damp plaster, ink, and American crow. I barely dared to believe that he was on the other side of the door.

All of these thoughts and my realization happened in the couple of seconds it took Philip to reach the front door. I quickly stood up from the piano and moved to stand next to one of the chairs in the main room as Philip opened the door.

“Hunter, it’s good to see you. Please come in,” Philip said.

Hunter’s sent became stronger as it began to fill the apartment. I breathed deeply as a fine tremor began to run through my body. I was buzzing with pleasure and nerves. Overwhelming joy at having him in my home, and paralyzing terror at having no idea what I was going to say.

His voice carried into the main room as he stopped in the entryway.

“Is Serene here?” Hunter asked.

When I became a vampire, my body took on the unnatural stillness of the dead and I had become accustomed to the stillness centuries ago. But at the sound of Hunter’s voice I fully expected my heart to flutter with anticipation and was surprised when it was as still as ever. The lack of movement was a painful reminder that I was not human and Hunter now knew that.

“Yes,” Philip said. “You should be able to find her in the main room straight ahead. Philip’s voice was soft and encouraging, knowing that I was listening to everything. He must have been the one to add Hunter to our guest list.

Hunter’s footsteps shuffled softly across the entryway carpet. His hand tapped out an uneven, nervous beat against the plaster of his cast. I watched as his shadow appeared on the floor from the light spilling out of the entryway. And then I was looking into his beautiful gray eyes.

I was drowning and I welcomed it. I had pictured him in the apartment so many times over the last few days. It seemed like the most natural sight in the world to finally see him there, even if he stopped just a couple steps into the room.

“Hello, Hunter,” I said in a quiet murmur, a small smile forming on my lips.

He looked perfect. Not in the way humans expected. His dusty brown hair was sticking out in every direction with small portions that looked as if he had tried to smooth it with his hands. His clothes were a bit rumpled as if they had been hastily pulled on and his shoes were untied. He looked as if he had not slept in years and exhaustion was going to do him in.

But Hunter’s eyes were alive. I could see the urgency that had caused him to rush over and the excitement of seeing something he had been missing. To me he would always be perfect.

“Hi,” Hunter replied. 

I watched him fight the urge to return my smile. My face fell.

“I have a few things I want to ask you,” Hunter said.

His voice was nearly emotionless as his eyes pleaded for the truth.

“Of course,” I said.

I quietly hoped that explanations were not the only reason he had come to me.

“Why don’t we sit down,” I suggested.

I made a small gesture to the arrangement of chairs and sofas next to me. Hunter’s eyes followed my movement and widened in surprise at the furniture as if he was not expecting to see them there.

When we moved in, Philip and I had tastefully decorated our main space in soft blues and neutral browns, with accents of green as a nod towards the home we had grown up in. Two tan chairs faced away from the piano looking towards the french doors that led to the balcony. A sky blue love seat faced the piano in between the balcony and the tan chairs. A larger caramel sofa faced an intricate wrought iron fireplace, creating a square with the chairs and love seat. And in the middle of the square was a gorgeous, naturally shaped olive wood coffee table.

Hunter’s eyes drifted across the room, taking in the seating, the fireplace, and the balcony. His eyes seemed to leave his head as his gaze landed on the music nook tucked into the corner next to the tan chairs.

The nook was separated from the main room by a raised step. Most of the platform was dominated by the grand piano I had been playing all night and a concert harp. The walls were filled with the other instruments and various musical electronics I owned. There was so much I needed to tell him.

I chose to sit down in the corner of the sofa closest to the piano, away from where Philip had spread out his materials near the love seat. I briefly waited with hope that Hunter would sit next to me, even if he sat at the other end of the sofa, so when he chose the adjacent tan chair my spirits fell. I tried to keep a pleasant smile on my face, but I know my eyes showed my sadness. I curled my legs underneath me. Maybe if I appeared as gentle and non-threatening as possible Hunter would relax. But curling in on myself was also a physical manifestation of my attempt to emotionally protect myself. I slowly rearranged the skirt of my dress to give myself something other than Hunter to focus on.

“Can I interest you in something to drink?” Philip asked Hunter. “Water? Wine?”

Hunter jumped up, his eyes going impossibly wider than they had already been, his heart rate spiking. Philip had approached Hunter’s chair to fulfill his hosting duties. Hunter must not have noticed Philip moving at a slightly faster than human speed.

After a second, Hunter recovered his composure.

“Water is fine. Thank you.”

The two of us sat in silence as Philip prepared a glass for Hunter. The boy with mist gray eyes refused to look at me, was looking at everything else in the room, while I could look at nothing but him. He sat at the edge of the chair, his shoulders hunched, with his forearms braced on his knees. The slowly increasing dawn light spilling from the balcony outlined the tension in those shoulders. I could see the glow of his skin pulled tight through his thin black t-shirt. The highlights and shadows appearing in his hair made the mess look almost artfully styled rather than bedhead. The little bit of black eyeliner he had been wearing at the concert was smudged, making his eyes haunting and intense. Anxiety tugged at the corners of his eyes and mouth.

Philip brought Hunter a glass of water, shooting both of us worried glances because of how much tension was building between Hunter and I.

“Thank you,” Hunter said as he took the glass.

Water delivered, Philip gathered his papers and left the main room, heading towards his private room, leaving Hunter and I alone.

Hunter finished off the glass of water in one swallow. He kept the glass in his hands to fiddle with nervously. Back and forth the glass rolled in his hands while Hunter stared at is as if it was the most important thing in the world. With every roll, dawn light flashed into my eyes. I waited for him to break the tense silence.

“How old are you?”

“A couple of centuries over three thousand,” I said.

Hunter’s eyes dilated in shock. He continued to stare at the glass.

“Three thousand,” he whispered in disbelief.

“Approximately,” I clarified. “I have never been able to accurately count the years. The common calendar system has changed several times since I was born.”

“If you have been alive for three thousand years, how come you don’t look any older than twenty-two?”

The disbelief was still in his voice, but now there was a tinge of curiosity as well.

“I was sixteen years old when I was turned.”

Hunter stoped rolling the water glass between his hands and instead gripped the glass so tightly I feared it might shatter and rip into his uninjured palm. Clearly, he had not been expecting an age modern society considered so young.

“When a human is turned into a vampire their body essentially freezes at that age,” I said softly to help explain.

Hunter took a deep breath before his next question. His hands on the glass just as tight.

“Can I ask who turned you?” he asked almost hesitantly.

“Certainly.”

But I hesitated. If Hunter still had any romantic feelings for me, I highly doubted he was going to like my answer.

“My sire was my husband.”

Hunter flinched and my enhanced hearing heard the water glass creak under the pressure.

“You’re married,” Hunter said with a strained voice.

“No,” I said, very happy that I could share this fact. “I am a widow.”

Hunter’s shoulders relaxed and more importantly his grip on the glass relaxed and he began to roll it again.

“How did he die?” Hunter asked. “Your husband, I mean.”

Hunter’s little curiosity brought me joy. I smiled the small, malicious smile I saved for the rare moments when I thought about Adonis.

“I killed him, and I have no regret that I did so,” I said.

Hunter’s eyebrows lifted, mildly shocked, mildly skeptical, as he kept his eyes on the glass in his hands.

“Why?” How?” he asked.

“He chose to be more unfaithful than he was allowed to be,” I said with scorn and disgust as deep as the Mediterranean. “It was not my turn to watch him, either.”

Hunter’s eyebrows pulled together above his eyes. I moved onto his second question of how before he could comment on my answer.

“And the most effective way to kill a vampire is to tear them into pieces and then set those pieces on fire,” I said with feigned indifference.

This new piece of information, the knowledge of how to kill me and how readily I had given it to him, finally caused Hunter to look up from the water glass in his hand and look into my eyes. The confusion was still there in his brow, but his gray eyes sparkled with surprise and the growing morning light. Those mystical eyes were the bright light at the end of a very dark tunnel.

“Why did you just tell me how to kill you?” Hunter asked, his disbelief very apparent.

“The only object that can cut through a vampire’s skin is another immortal’s teeth. No other substance I have found on Earth is strong or sharp enough. So, there is no danger that you would be able to physically harm me.”

“Oh,” Hunter said in understanding, which then quickly morphed back into confusion. “Ok. I’m gonna admit, I’m confused about the first thing you said. About your husband being more unfaithful than he was allowed to be.”

I smiled gently.

“That’s understandable, knowing the society you have grown up in.”

I took a deep breath to steel myself for what I was going to have to do.

“In order to explain, I have to tell you a story.” Hunter slowly nodded his head in assent. “And in order for me to complete the story, I cannot have any interruptions. The story is long and hard for me to tell. There will be parts that you may want to dispute, and I promise you we can discuss them after I finish.”

I held Hunter’s gaze as I told him my conditions. I knew that the trauma I was about to unearth I would only be able to live through once. Even one interruption would break my hold on my memories and they would be locked away in the depths of my mind for quite some time before I would be willing to recall them again.

“I promise, I won’t interrupt,” Hunter said.

The steel in those gray eyes as Hunter made his promise gave me the last boost of courage I needed.

“Okay,” I said as I gave him a love filled smile. “This is the story of how vampires were first created. It is unfailing true. I should know, for I was there for most of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!


	11. The Origins of Vampires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serene tells her story.

Several centuries before I was born, on the island known as Cyprus today, the goddesses Aphrodite and Persephone fell in love with a mortal called Adonis. The two goddesses fought over who would have him until Zeus stepped in. 

As the King of the gods, Zeus made the decision to divide Adonis’s time into three parts. The mortal would spend one year with Aphrodite, one year with Persephone, and one year as he chose, repeating this cycle for as long as he lived. After spending several cycles with each goddess, alternating who he spent his third year of a cycle with, Adonis chose to spend his year in the mortal world.

Aphrodite and Persephone feared the dangers that came from being mortal. It terrified them, as much as anything can terrify a goddess, that Adonis would be in danger of death, disease, and injury. In unprecedented cooperation, the goddesses combined their power and transformed Adonis into a near mortal form that could not be harmed. They enhanced all of his senses a thousand fold to better perceive any danger. His mind they opened up to its greatest potential to outwit any man or god who would try to do him harm. And his body they made unbreakable and strong so that he might return to them whole. Aphrodite in particular made sure Adonis received the gift of eternal youth so he would be forever young and beautiful.

But with all actions come consequences. To the goddesses the side effects of their gifts were worth the guarantee that their lover would be safe. Adonis no longer had the need to sleep or eat human food. His eyes picked up every detail he saw, his ears heard every sound, his noes every sent, all wether he wanted them to or not. He never forgot anything, good or bad. 

The worst consequence of all, Adonis was forced to consume the force of all life, blood. Human or animal, it did not matter.

Adonis spent his year with the mortals and the cycle repeated. This is where my knowledge of Adonis’s story ends. I was never given more and I have never wanted to know any more.

 

I was living in Athens when I met Adonis. My father was a wealthy merchant and citizen of Athens. My mother was dead due to complications during my birth. I knew nothing of the world outside of my father’s modest estate. Society was different back then. Women were considered property, valued on little more than what they were worth through marriage alliances. I was no exception. 

At sixteen, I was on the verge of becoming a spinster. Other girls my age had given birth to a second or third child if they had survived the birth of their first. When my father informed me that someone had asked for my hand in marriage and he had agreed, I was overjoyed. Not only would I finally be helping my father with my bride price, I would become a wife, a mother, and have a home of my own to run. It was everything that was expected of me as the daughter of a merchant and what I was taught to expect of myself. 

Before our marriage, I had heard of Adonis thanks to gossiping servants. He was said to be the most beautiful man in the known world and was widely admired by all. Any woman he chose would be the luckiest mortal this side of Olympus. I could not wait.

The first time I saw Adonis was on the steps of the temple of Hera the day we were married. He was the most beautiful figure I had ever laid eyes on. That he could be loved by not one but two goddesses made perfect sense. As I repeated the temple vows, I vaguely remembered thinking that our children would be blessed by the gods. When the ceremony completed, Adonis swept me away to his empty country estate on the outskirts of Athens.

He was very gentle with me that first night, keeping in mind that his enhanced strength and speed might break me. With very little thought or effort, my fragile human body could have been destroyed.

It wasn’t until the second night of our marriage that Adonis turned me into a vampire.

 

_Serene paused briefly as the memories of her transformation flooded her mind. There were very few instances when a vampire’s mind was overwhelmed, and for Serene her transformation came close. With effort she pushed down the remembered pain and terror. Hunter took Serene’s pause to collect his own raging thoughts and absorb all that she had said up to that point._

 

All it takes to turn a human into a vampire is one venomous bite. The venom works its way through the veins and arteries, burning a pathway to the heart leaving vampire traits in its wake. When the heart finally stops the transformation is complete. The burn of the venom is the worst pain someone can ever experience. Nothing on this earth compares. It is as if you are being burnt alive with a fire a thousand times hotter than you can ever imagine. 

The pain can be worth it though, if you want the benefits of being a vampire and do not care about the consequences, and there are many out there who think this way. My belief is that the intense pain is only worth suffering if you have someone to live for at the end of the fire.

After I… woke up, Adonis explained what he had done and the arrangement he had with the goddesses. He told me everything I have already told you. For days I was disoriented and confused. I quickly came to the conclusion that my husband was a monster and had turned me into one as well. I refused to drink the blood of humans when Adonis took me hunting. I may have become a monster, but I was not going to hurt others the way Adonis had hurt me.

Adonis’s year with the mortals ended about eight months after we were married. Aphrodite whisked him away to I know not where and I was left alone on the large estate with three human servants. Two were old slaves belonging to Adonis who had kept the estate in a habitable condition while Adonis was away. The third was Philip.

Philip had been a gift from my father when I began my monthly bleedings, marking me as a woman. He was 14 years old and my personal slave, considered safe to serve me because he was a eunuch. At the time of my marriage, Philip had been my slave for four years.

 

_Hunter’s briefly considered breaking his promise and interrupting Serene. Why would anyone ever want to become a vampire? Yeah you would be invincible and you’d live forever, but no amount of pain could be worth it. And Philip. Hunter could barely believe that he was once a slave. But if Philip had been a gift to Serene, then were they actually related?”_

_Before Hunter could ask any questions, Serene continued speaking. She had fallen into a light trance when she began talking about her transformation._

 

Philip and I are not related by blood, but are bound together by experiences that are stronger than blood. He came into my life as a slave during a period of time when slavery was commonplace, but I have not thought of him as such in three millenniums. He is my closest friend and constant companion. He was the first person to unconditionally accept me in my monstrous form and helped me to accept myself.

Adonis was away for two years. I fought against my thirst for blood, nearly feeding on Philip and the other two slaves several times. I am proud that I was able to stop myself before I bit anyone each time. But I killed many more animals in those first few years than I have ever needed to.

Adonis came back and he used me as it suited him. This was his right as my husband and I did not object. However, I refused to hunt with him. He preferred his blood human. The difference in our feeding preferences led me to believe that human blood did not satisfy a vampire’s thirst as well as animal blood since Adonis seemed to go hunting much more frequently than I, but Adonis did not allow me to leave his estate’s grounds so it was years before I met another vampire to compare Adonis’s behavior with.

Ten years after I had become a vampire, Philip asked me if I would turn him. I had not aged a day since my wedding, but Philip had aged 10 years. When I rejected even the thought of transforming my only friend into a monster, Philip argued that I needed someone to look after me, to be by my side, to be my companion since my husband was not going to fill that role. I did not want to be selfish and trade Philip’s life for my own comfort even though the thought of watching my only friend die seemed as painful as my transformation.

Then Adonis turned cruel, both verbally and physically. He turned all of his frustration and anger at his immortal lovers onto me. Vampires do not bruise, but when a limb is torn off the rending of skin, muscle, and bone is still painful. The venom in a vampire’s bite stings. 

Within six months, Philip had convinced me to change him. We waited until Adonis was back with his goddesses.

Philip’s turning was easier than mine, shorter. I think his foreknowledge of what was to come made a difference. I had no warning when Adonis changed me. Adonis was furious when he found out. He would have killed Philip had I not stopped him. Adonis was not expecting me to resist, because good Greek wives obeyed their husbands. I needed Philip and I was not going to give him up to sooth a husband’s jealousy.

 

We found a routine, Philip and I. For a hundred years, our lives were dictated by Adonis’s cycle. When he was there, Adonis was the center of our worlds and we catered to his every whim. When he was gone, Philip and I found ways to entertain ourselves. Hunting and the arts. I played any instrument I could place my hands on. Philip drew. Together we worshiped the gods, and Artemis the most of them all. Philip firmly believed Artemis would protect me even though I was married and she was a goddess of maidens. He reasoned that the hunting goddess would understand that I had had my life and maidenhood stolen from me by a man who was no better than a monster from the depths of Tartarus. Slowly I began to believe as Philip did.

Nearing the end of that first century I began to catch glimpses of Adonis in the forests surrounding his estate, both when he was supposed to be in the mortal world and with the goddesses. After a third glimpse of my husband when he was not meant to be in the mortal world I became suspicious. What was he doing in a mortal forest when he was supposed to be with one of his immortal lovers? The next few times I spotted Adonis I attempted to follow, but his sent always seemed to vanish. I latter reasoned that I must have been following him as he left his rendezvous. Eventually, by luck or divine will, I followed caught him traveling to his mortal world destination.

To my surprise, Adonis was visiting another woman, a second mortal woman who he had transformed and was keeping in a near by estate. Her presence had been hidden from me by the order to never leave the estate Adonis had brought me to following our wedding, and like a good wife I had obeyed.

Since our wedding I had come to hate Adonis. In a single night he had taken everything from me that I had ever hoped for. A home I could be proud of. Children. Love. He did not love me. He only loved himself. A small part of my heart that was still a maiden continued to love the beautiful figure I had seen standing in the Temple of Hera.

Finding him with another vampire, another woman who’s life he had most likely ruined the way he had ruined mine, something inside me snapped.

I killed him.

I did not touch the other vampire. I pulled Adonis out of her bed and ripped him limb from limb. My eyes blazed with my hatred as I burnt the separated pieces of my husband. As I ripped him apart, Adonis saw my hatred and stopped fighting. Maybe he wanted to die. Maybe the love of two goddesses was not enough to make eternity worth living. The other vampire just screamed.

As the fire burned Adonis, Aphrodite and Persephone materialized. If I had been human, the full glory of their divine immortal presence would have blinded me.

Aphrodite saw the scene and immediately turned on me. She grabbed me by the throat to lift me off my feet.

“What have you done?!” the goddess screamed.

“I gave him what he deserved,” I spat at Aphrodite. I was so angry and disappointed I involuntarily had tears running down my face. I only hoped my blood would dirty the goddess’s hands.

“You deserve to die!” Persephone hissed as she stared into the pile of flaming pieces that was all that was left of Adonis.

Even though they were gods, Aphrodite and Persephone could do nothing to bring their precious Adonis back.

“Go ahead. I want to die.”

I glanced over to the vampire who was still on the bed frozen with shock.

“He was with her when I found him. I did you a favor when I punished him for his faithlessness. So go ahead. Kill me.”

“With pleasure,” Aphrodite said with a malicious smile. 

The goddess of love closed her fingers around my throat with the intent to rip off my head.

Before Aphrodite could even pierce through my impenetrable flesh with her immortal fingers, the entire room flashed a pale silver and blue and I heard a hard voice come from behind me.

“Put her down.”

Aphrodite’s fingers froze around my neck, but she made no move to release me.

“Why should I?” Aphrodite sneered.

“Serene is under my protection and you will face the consequences if you do not release her at once.”

I was thrown to the ground and found myself at the feet of Artemis. Fueled by my hatred, I had not felt how tightly Aphrodite had been squeezing my neck. With the pressure gone I felt the twinges of pain where the vengeful goddesses fingers had pressed. The mortal world may not be able to harm the vampire form, but the gods can do as they wish.

Artemis knelt down beside me and laid a gentle hand on my arm.

“Are you alright my daughter?” the goddess I had been devoting my prayers to for a hundred years asked.

I could only stare up into her fathomless eyes and nod my head.

“Good,” she said.

Artemis stood and faced the door that led into the hallway of the estate. A fraction of a second later, Philip was at my side, supporting me as I stood. He must have followed me as I had followed Adonis and then been trapped outside the room when the goddesses appeared.

Since Aphrodite and Persephone could no longer harm me, they directed their fury and frustration onto Adonis’ mistress. The vampire was a burning pile next to Adonis’ pryer in seconds. 

But that did not satisfy the angry goddesses. Before they left the mortal world the goddesses laid a curse on vampire kind. The made sure every human would see vampires as monsters. Unnaturally pale skin that sparkles like diamonds in the sunlight. An uncontrollable thirst for human blood that affected the mind. No control over their venom so every bite would create new vampires if those bit were not drained. Eyes the color of the blood they craved.

Artemis protected Philip and I so Aphrodite and Persephone’s curse never touched us. This is why we are different from the rest of vampire kind.

Their curse complete, Aphrodite and Persephone disappeared as quickly as they had appeared. I turned to Artemis.

“Th-thank you, Goddess,” I said, tripping over my words.

“You are welcome, my daughter,” Artemis said. “You and Philip have been devoted to me. It is extremely rare to have a grown woman and man turn to me for help. Normally I would have insisted you turn to another god. But your cause was just. I could not stand by while my fellow gods chose to watch. You two have been loyal followers and so it was my duty to help you.

“In you, I also saw a chance to potentially save the creatures Aphrodite and Persephone had created. Unwittingly, those two created beings that were exactly what humanity would be if immortalized but not made gods.”

“Will they try to come for us?” Philip asked.

“No,” Artemis said reassuringly. “I will make sure that they do not.”

And with that the goddess was gone.

Since then, Philip and I have been living our lives and not once have I regretted what I have done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> If it wasn't clear, Serene is the narrator. The paragraphs in italics happen outside of Serene's story.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I gladly welcome any constructive criticism, as this is my first posted work.


End file.
